


Puck Luck

by icywind



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Albeit only mentioned, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Clint Barton, Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Class Differences, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Depressed Clint Barton, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, This is a Hallmark Movie in fic form, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but he won't admit that, i ain't even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Two things happened in February - I was stuck at home watching Hallmark movies one day because of a migraine and Andre Burakovsky ended up with a broken hand. And while an injured Bucky is not going to [jump into a fan's vehicle thinking it's an uber](http://www.russianmachineneverbreaks.com/2017/02/12/andre-burakovsky-enters-car-thinking-its-his-uber-driver-takes-him-to-his-destination-anyway/), he, like Andre, could probably use a little looking after (conveniently the plot of one of the aforementioned Hallmark movie).
> 
> That peculiar combination of events led to this fic - affectionately referred to as 'Hallmark Hockey' for a majority of its life. IDEK guys, it's a silly little tropey thing that I hope is as amusingly enjoyable to read as it has been to write. 
> 
> Updates to happen maybe weekly? I have a fair amount written anyways.

 

 

“No absolutely not.”

“James, this is non-negotiable.”

“Natalia, no.”

“Natalia, yes.”

Bucky frowned at her, his most annoyed one to boot, but she remained steadfast. “Why can't you do it?

“James...” The tone of her voice rose just a touch. He knew that that was the signal to back off, drop the subject and just let her win, but he ignored it.

“You're my second best friend, we get along famously, and we already know we can live together comfortably.”

“And I am also your agent with a busy job that needs to travel. Defeating the entire purpose of living with you because I wouldn't be here.”

“Well maybe Rebecca--”

“Your sister also has a job, not to mention a wedding coming up. She will kill you if you ask.”

“Okay okay,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well maybe Mom or Da- No no, never mind. That would be a disaster.”

“It seems like you're coming to your senses again if you realize that having one of your parents live with you, even for a month or so, would be a bad idea. So I don't see why you're fighting this idea.”

“Because I don't need help from a stranger. I don't want to live with a stranger.”

“Clint's a great guy and though I don't like using such ridiculous terms, he is what I would consider, my best friend. He's a little strange, sure, but trust me. You two will get along, of that I have no doubt. This will be a good thing.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Look, point blank. You broke your hand. You will need help with everything around the house short of using the damn bathroom. Just admit that now because you know if you try to do too much you will damage it further. You can't drive with that and you know it will take too long to use transit to get places, even if you enjoy using it, so I can't just get you a nurse.” 

“The team can hire me a car service...” Oh that was the wrong thing to say. If looks could kill or injure he'd just earned himself another month or three on the disabled list.

“You need help. Clint needs a job, and he's trustworthy.” And then Natasha's face did something he'd never really seen. Her expression turned...pleading almost. “I don't ask for things James, you know that. But I'm asking now.” She placed one of her hands over his uninjured one. “It will be good for the both of you. Please, James. Do this. For me.”

“Okay, fine.” Natalia smiled at him, a genuine smile – something even he didn't always see – and hugged him. Whoever this Barton was he was clearly important to her if she wanted him to have this job so badly. Because yeah, Bucky could actually use the help, but there had to be a reason she was pushing so hard for this. 

“Thank you,” she pulled him close in a hug.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

 

 

~~|~~

 

 

The following morning Bucky was sitting at the kitchen bar, unusually bleary eyed and only halfheartedly picking at the breakfast Natalia had made for him when the door buzzed. 

“You know the pain meds will mess with your stomach if you don't eat that; and you need rest so you can't avoid taking them, so eat up,” she scolded, rising from the table and heading to the entryway. 

Bucky listened with half an ear as she greeted the person at the door and led him towards the kitchen. He should probably get up to greet his new housemate for the next month or two. Maybe he should have put on something other than an old pair of sweats and a threadbare t-shirt. Eh. They were clean and it wasn't like he had to impress this guy or anything.

“Do I smell eggs and coffee?” an unfamiliar voice asked as they crossed the threshold. “Oh hey, Clint Barton.” He held out his hand for Bucky to shake. “Tasha's told me so much. Sorry about the hand, but thanks for giving me a chance.”

“Bucky Barnes,” he replied, standing and taking Clint's hand while berating himself for not dressing better because huh – Natalia had never told him her best friend was cute. “Natalia's never really told me a lot about you,” he then said and what the fuck brain to mouth filter? He did not want to get off on the wrong foot with this guy.

“Names are sometimes changed or omitted in my stories for you, James. It's for your own good.” 

“If she's using that excuse she must really be fond of you,” Clint said, grin still in place despite Bucky's slip into gruffness. He sniffed the air again.

“Plates on the right, mugs on the left,” Natasha said. “I made more than enough.” She leaned against Clint briefly and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then leaned in to do the same for Bucky. “Now, you boys behave and try to get along okay? I have to fly up to Montreal and then out to Vancouver so I won't be around to break up any cat fights.” 

“You,” she pointed to Clint, “Make sure he,” She pointed to Bucky. “Eats and sleeps and follows directions given to him by the trainers. No sneaking in any extra work outs. And you,” she leveled her finger and look at Bucky. “Be nice. Don't overdo anything. Listen to him,” Back at Clint. “When he has your best interests at heart and also make sure he sleeps enough as well.”

“Hey – I've gotten be-” There was an audible noise as Natasha was able to make Clint snap his mouth shut mid sentence with a look.

That was interesting.

“And both of you take your meds. Your scripts have been given to the team doctors and pharmacy, it's all taken care of for you.” This again was directed at Clint who nodded dutifully. “I expect check-ins weekly. At least. Twice a week would be better.”

“Yes ma'am,” they said in unison, causing Clint to grin around the lip of his mug of coffee at him and Bucky to narrow his eyes slightly. 

It wasn't cute.

 

 

~~

 

 

“Okay – I suppose it would be a good idea to give you the grand tour huh?” Bucky said when they both finished breakfast. 

“Will I need to take notes?” Clint asked. “This place is pretty big looking on the outside. Don't wanna get lost or anything...” His expression started out amused but the longer he spoke and the less Bucky reacted the more it fell until it went strangely blank. “So uh, not one for jokes huh?”

“Usually am,” Bucky replied, briefly considering saying something like 'when things are funny' because that was something he could say with the boys. But Clint wasn't one of them. Wasn't part of the family. He didn't know Clint at all and Natalia hadn't said much about him. Therefore Bucky wasn't sure how he'd react to teasing like that. Given how swiftly his face had fallen when Bucky didn't immediately respond – probably not well. Plus Clint seemed more than a little uncomfortable. Bucky was willing to bet he tried to cover that with humor. It wasn't his fault Bucky was still adjusting to the stupid injury and the stupid changes to his routine it was entailing. But how did he explain that to someone he didn't know without going way too in depth about himself in a way that made him feel uncomfortable? 

“Sorry – I think the pain meds are doing things to me.” There. That was pretty easy – even part of the truth really.

“Or the pain itself,” Clint offered. “Pain can really mess you up.” It was an innocent enough statement, but the way he held himself as he said it made Bucky think there was a story behind it. Something personal and not an anecdote gleaned from another source.

“Could be,” Bucky agreed, before hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “Let's start in the basement and work our way up.”

Truth be told, Bucky knew his place was overly large. It was part of the reason he'd purchased it in the first place. Some of it was practicality – being an athlete it was good to have a large portion of the basement dedicated to being a gym (laundry and storage made up the bulk of the remainder of the space). It was nice to be able to work out without having to go anywhere. And the rest of it was – he liked having the space to have people over. Enough space that they could stay there rather than a hotel. 

The main floor was dominated by the kitchen, with a smaller dining area the realtor had called a breakfast room (and Bucky called the actual dining room) and a small but charming patio on one side of it and the entrance gallery on the other. 

The living room with its ridiculously comfortable sofas and chairs and fireplace dominated the second floor, with the dining room (formal one – aka when actual large groups of friends or extended family came to visit) on the opposite end of the building from it. It also included one of his favorite rooms – the study. It was more of a lounge area/media room than a study – though he did have a desk in it.

The third floor held the three largest guest bedrooms and a mixed use room that the owners before him had used as a playroom for their children. Maybe someday it would become that again, but for now it was just an open space where he hung a few of his older jerseys. 

The master bedroom and bath comprised the majority of the fourth floor – with Bucky's other favorite room, the library, located there as well. There was also another modest terrace off of the library and when the weather cooperated Bucky enjoyed grabbing a book and heading outside to read.

The last two guest rooms were on the fifth floor, along with a small study that opened to the library beneath it. Bucky's actual office was located on that floor as well. It was easier, in his mind, to separate business from pleasure in an actual physical way, which was why the library and the study didn't see him doing a ton of actual work.

Finally he showed Clint the rooftop deck from the inside of the skylight at the top of the elliptical staircase that dominated the building (another of the reason's he'd decided on the place), but didn't take him out due to the weather.

“I admit, it's a little ostentatious, but I dunno...I like having the room to be able to have friends and family over I guess.” He shrugged and was glad that Clint didn't ask why none of them were moving in to help him out. Because yes, he loved them all and adored when they could come and visit, but Natalia was right. Everyone else had their own lives and he couldn't really ask them to put things on hold to help him out. Not for potentially up to two months.

 

 

~~

 

 

“When's the rest of your stuff being delivered?” Bucky asked as Clint hefted his backpack onto his shoulders then put the cross strap of a medium sized duffle across his chest and grabbed the handle of his rolling suitcase. Bucky grabbed the handle of the last item, a strangely shaped hard case of some fashion and they stared at each other for a beat before Clint managed to shrug with his eyebrow.

“This is it for me,” Clint replied as he followed Bucky back towards the elevator to head up to the room he'd picked for himself, the rear suite on the third floor – the one with the small balcony. 

“This is it?” Three bags and a case that Bucky didn't think held clothing. “Do you have a storage unit or something maybe?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Clint replied smoothly, as he detangled himself from his bags once inside his room. “I um – I've moved around a lot?” His posture went a little bit guarded. “I guess you learn to live with whatever you can carry or something. This is about the most I've had in a while.”

“Oh...” Well what the fuck did you say to something like that? Bucky's family had never been super wealthy, but they had been comfortably Middle Class, his parents able to provide for their children without much issue. They didn't take fancy vacations really, but they didn't want for much and certainly never for the basics. And once Bucky had shown his scholastic skills and then, more importantly, his hockey skills - well, money hadn't been an issue for him for a long time. 

“Well...I suppose I could offer to help you unpack but since I'm down a hand I think that might not be the best of ideas.”

“You're probably right, but thanks for the thought,” Clint replied with a small smile.

“No problem and hey – I might have to keep to a diet but uh, the proper meal whenever anyone moves in or out of a place is pizza so after you're all settled in why don't we meet back up in the kitchen around like four and figure out what we want to order in? We can go over schedule stuff later after dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Clint replied and with that Bucky retreated back to his own bedroom to change into something a little nicer. Not to impress Clint or anything of course, it was just a good idea to dress a little less like a slob when you had someone around, right?

 

 

~~

 

 

Of course the best laid plans etc etc because Bucky intended to just take a quick nap before dinner but found himself waking up at 6:00 that evening. He shuffled groggily down to the kitchen, only to find it empty. He found Clint in the breakfast room on his laptop.

“Why didn't you wake me?” he asked around a yawn.

“Pretty much that reason right there,” Clint replied with a shrug. “You looked like you needed the sleep.” So Clint had at least glanced into the bedroom to check on him.

“Weren't you hungry?” Bucky was starving, it had been way way too long since breakfast that morning. And Clint might not be an athlete with the caloric needs Bucky had, but he was a little on the 'too thin' side so he could probably stand to eat more.

“M'ok,” Clint shrugged again. “Besides, like I said, you looked like you needed the sleep and Nat told me to make sure you got it.”

“She lets you call her Nat?” Bucky slumped onto a chair across the table from Clint.

“Yeah – I sort of just kept at it until she stopped rolling her eyes at me.” Bucky laughed and Clint smiled at his reaction. “I'm a little older than her but I'm pretty sure she sees me as an annoying little brother. Or maybe pet – I think it depends on the day, really.” Bucky laughed even harder and Clint's smile grew even brighter.

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Bucky said with a shake of his head once his laughter had petered out. “She's pretty great though.”

“She really is.”

They shot the breeze for a little while longer before ordering the pizza and devouring it in near record time. Bucky was then all set to take Clint back to his office to go over his schedule, but instead Clint steered him back towards his bedroom. 

“If you can get a word in between yawns maybe we could do this, but you can't, so just go back to bed. Nothing happening tomorrow really, right?”

“Right, but-”

“Then we'll figure it out tomorrow.” Clint was cheerful but firm in ordering Bucky around.

“I can see you picked up a few skills from Natalia.”

“Of course” Clint winked. “But really. Trust me – I know what is like. Your body is working pretty hard trying to sort everything out and heal that hand. You'll sleep a lot and need to eat a lot – at least in between occasional bouts of not being able to sleep and food looking horrible. It's great.”

Bucky wanted to maybe ask about how Clint knew what it was like to have a broken bone. When, where, and how had he been injured, for starters, but another yawn cracked his jaw before he could get the question out. And, he reminded himself, he didn't really need to learn the guy's life story or anything.

“I suppose you're right.”

“I know I am.”

“Don't let that go to your head, okay dude?” Bucky flashed a half-grin and waved as Clint shut the door behind him. Couldn't hurt to catch up on that sleep he'd lost the night before.

 

 

~~

 

 

The following day went pretty smoothly. Bucky had a doctors appointment, more follow up stuff really with notes for the staff back at the team's training complex. Then, after a grocery run, lunch. Which was followed by a retreat up to Bucky's office to go over the schedule. He'd still be attending practices when the team was playing at home and going to the complex for training once they'd set up a regimen for him. 

With Bucky being the first athlete in the NHL to have come out, albeit as bisexual rather than gay – which had gotten him some flack he hadn't really expected - his schedule during the month of February (Hockey is for Everybody Month) was a little more chaotic than the average player – mostly consisting of additional press. The following week was the busiest, of course, given it culminated in the team's Pride Night.

Clint took it all in with agreeable nods, asking questions here and there but seeming to understand everything well enough, leaving Bucky optimistic that things were going to go much more swimmingly than he had initially thought.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Bucky rolled over with a grumble and thumbed off the alarm on his phone. He hadn't altered his schedule by too much during the bye week, but waking up early was still more difficult than it should be. Probably thanks to the pain meds he'd had to take again the night before. He stared up at the ceiling for a minute before rolling to the side again to turn on a lamp, then ease himself out of bed. 

He should probably wait for Barton to come over and help him with water proofing his cast for the shower, but he just wanted to get a move on. Of course, doing that and showering were the easy parts. Drying off and getting dressed on the other hand...well that took Bucky a lot longer than he'd wanted even with assistance. And without it...

He managed to tear the bag removing it from the cast and he jarred his hand too much when trying to pull on his shirt because his back was still half wet from his ineffectual toweling off. Because of that, he was damp, sore, and grumpy by the time he'd made it down to the kitchen...where his expected breakfast, or at least coffee, was nowhere to be found. 

In fact, Barton was nowhere to be found for that matter and Bucky just barely caught himself before bellowing out to see where he was. He was an adult, after all, and it would be more satisfying to scold Barton in person anyway. So back up the stairs he went, and if he stomped with more force than necessary there wasn't anyone there to call him out on it.

He knocked on Barton's door and waited. “Barton – you in there?” Nothing. Bucky knocked again and again had no response. What the fuck? “Barton! I'm coming in.” He opened the door to find the room dark and Barton still fast asleep. Flipping on the lights did nothing so he crossed over to the bed and grabbed his shoulder. “Jesus Christ Barton, what the fuck did I hire you for?”

With a startled cry, Barton jerked back, knocking Bucky's hand away and moving with starling speed to put distance between them, nearly falling off the other side of the bed in the process. 

“Please don't! I didn't – I'm sorry!” The words tumbled from Barton's lips, loud and awkward in the silence and Bucky felt his stomach drop. Everything about Barton-Clint in that moment, his words, his actions, the knee-jerk response, spoke to someone that must have known abuse at some point in his life.

“Bucky?” Clint's voice was still strangely loud but both it and his eyes were clearer at least – more aware. He glanced up at Bucky's face, then glanced over to the alarm clock and blanched. “Oh shit. Oh shit! I'm so sorry. Fuck!” He reached under the pillow and pulled out a round device. “Oh God, I knew when he dropped it that it probably broke it but still...” His eyes darted back to Bucky's, the panicked look back in full force. “I can – I'll sleep with an aid in next time. Alternating ears won't be so bad. This will not happen again, I'm so so sorry. Please don't fire me or kick me out or-”

“Aid?” Bucky's stomach sank again and he felt a wash of shame as another puzzle piece fell into place. “Clint, are you deaf?” Somehow, Bucky managed to feel even worse _again_ as Clint nodded, his face guilty and ashamed. “Ah shit,” he mumbled, sitting on the edge of Clint's bed and running his good hand over his face. “I had no idea.” Had he been too self absorbed in his own injury and the crap that came with it to notice? He had a hunch that the answer was going to make him feel like an even bigger asshole. 

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault man – though I wish you would have told me.” He heard Clint make a noise and then turned so he was facing him head on. “I said - not your fault man – though I wish you would have told me.”

“I don't...People look at me differently when they know. I didn't want you to think I couldn't do the job because of it. And of course, here I am proving to have problems doing my job because of it.”

“It's really not your fault. Alarm clocks break – it happens.” Bucky let out a sigh. “And I'm sorry I was a grumpy asshole barging in here.”

“I um – thanks?” Clint's face looked a little less worried finally. 

“Okay – let's uh, let's just start the day over huh? I'll head down and make some coffee while you get cleaned up and dressed. Gonna have to figure out breakfast on the go to make it to practice on time though.

“Sure,” Clint's expression was still a little tight. “Sorry, again.”

“Nah man, don't feel bad. We'll figure shit out.” Bucky rose to his feet and made his way out of Clint's room, closing the door behind him and feeling guilty as hell. 

Really. This was going great - if by great you meant like a car crash. And honestly, he had only himself to blame.

“Get your head out of your ass, Barnes.” He told himself, only barely resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall in frustration and anger.

 

~~

 

In the end, Bucky'd poured most of the coffee into the blender along with various items for a high-protein smoothie for the both of them and secured a promise from Clint that if anyone asked, they totally had a normal breakfast. They were both silent on the way to the practice facility, even though Bucky was pretty sure Clint caught him looking at his ears once or twice in an effort to spot the hearing aids he'd missed before. Clint's hair was shaggy so it did mask them a little bit. Still – he should have been more observant. And less of a dick. 

“Okay – if you want to get some food, feel free – there's a kitchen that's pretty well stocked. Someone can show you where it is. Otherwise – I'll see you in like two hours?” Bucky said as they made their way into the facility. It wasn't that he wanted to abandon Clint or anything, he just – he didn't want to parade him around the guys right now. Not until he had a better hold on him and what all was going on. 

“Um...okay.”

“Ah! Cameron! Glad you're here,” Bucky said, plowing on past Clint's confused acceptance. “This is my temporary PA Clint Barton. Clint – this is Cameron Klein. He'll get you set up with an ID and anything else you might need. Show you around a little maybe.” He batted his eyes at Cameron. “He needs some team clothes too – put it on my account when you go.”

“Sure,” Cameron said, bemused look on his face. “I can do that. Good to meet you, Clint,” he offered his hand and Bucky grinned as Clint took it without hesitation, then strode off without another word, only half hearing when Cameron said “You'll just have to hang here with me for a bit until Rose gets in for the day,” to Clint. Cameron was a pretty awesome guy – he'd be good for Clint to hang with for a bit. Decompress.

Bucky had his phone out and was scrolling through Amazon when Dum Dum spotted him and grabbed him around the waist lifting him in a half-hug half-carry move. 

“Whatcha doing here kid? Can't play with that bum paw of yours,” Dum Dum said, setting him back on his feet.

“Someone's gotta keep you miscreants out of trouble,” Bucky replied with a grin. 

“Miscreants? Someone's been using their word of the day calendar, huh?” Gabe teased as he too wandered into the room.

“Nah, remember guys – he's got a college education,” Steve said as he sauntered in. It never ceased to amazing Bucky how much swagger and presence could be packed into all five foot nothing of Steven Grant Rogers. 

“Well, you would know – jerk.”

“Damn straight, punk.” Steve cuffed him lightly in the shoulder, then pulled him into a bear hug. “So how're things going so far with the live-in?”

“Wow, that's-”

“Barnes! You lost or something?” Phillips said as he walked in, likely following the source of the noise their conversations were generating, considering the rest of the team was still in the locker room. 

“No sir, just trying to keep myself out of trouble.”

“Well fat lot of good that's going to do you, palling around with Rogers.”

“Hey – _he_ keeps me out of some of the trouble I could be getting into!”

“Gretzky help us all,” Phillips waved with a roll of his eyes as he ushered Dum Dum and Gabe out. Steve and Bucky watched them go for a moment, before Steve turned back to facing him and raised his brow.

“Okay, please don't call him a live-in, that could be considered insulting, and so far...eh,” he see-sawed his good hand. “Rocky start this morning. His alarm broke so we didn't get out the door when I'd wanted to. Otherwise it's been fine, but it's hard to mess up time off.” He wasn't quite sure how to tell Steve he'd fucked up by not noticing Clint was deaf. And he was pretty sure that was a conversation that would take a lot longer to get through anyway.

“I hate to break it to you, but you kinda have a month or two of more time off coming, Buck.”

“You know what I mean, Stevie.” Not being able to play meant that yeah, he did have some time off, and he wouldn't be traveling with the team which opened up more, but he still would be working out to keep in shape. Maybe working on improving his endurance which would help immensely for the post season. He still could do his appearances and outreach and attend team meetings and practices, so it wasn't like he was getting a ton of extra time to sit around and do nothing. 

“So tell me, what's he like? You've been awful quiet lately.”

“Well you and Peg were in the Bahamas – I didn't want to interrupt your alone time.” He'd especially enjoyed the shot of Peggy carrying Steve around piggy-back on the beach that had made the rounds of various blogs and fan sites. He didn't like to say he was jealous or envious of the two of them because he loved them both dearly and their happiness made him happy... But, it also reminded him how lonely he was sometimes and how much he wanted that kind of connection with someone. 

“Yo – Rocky and Bullwinkle, shut yer yaps – the General wants us on the ice five minutes ago!” Morita said, poking his head into the room.

“I'm coming, I'm coming, keep your pads on!” Steve called at him with a chuckle. “Duty calls – we'll do lunch soon huh? You can tell me all about your new roomie.” 

Bucky smiled and nodded, though the smile faded from his lips the moment Steve was out of his sight. With the injury happening so close to the bye week he'd only missed one morning skate and game and really, he'd still been in the middle of the initial doctor trips and caught up in the pain and worry of it all to have it hit home properly. 

Now that he had a schedule set out in front of him he realized just how very long six to eight weeks could seem and how much the separation from the daily rhythms of the team was going to suck.

He didn't know Clint all that well yet, and today had been a mess so far, but he was suddenly very glad Natalia had insisted he let him move in to help.

 

~~

 

“Great, I was hoping that would be waiting for us,” Bucky said as he spotted the box in the foyer. He spared a glance back at Clint, who was carrying several bags already, before scooping it up off the floor with his good hand and tucking it under the elbow of the arm with the injured one. 

“Should you be doing that?” Clint asked as he came up behind him.

“Technically not using the hand,” he replied, unlocking and opening the door. “And it saves you a trip.”

“Okay...” Clint said, and Bucky could plainly hear the doubt in his voice. 

“We can just dump the stuff anywhere for now, 'cause I dunno about you, but I'm starving.”

“I could eat,” came Clint's reply and Bucky turned to watch him carefully set down everything. 

“Figure out food now, sort stuff while waiting for said food,” Bucky said, feeling guilty that Clint was still so reserved and wholly unlike how he had been the past few days. All because he'd been an ass that morning. “Here – this can go with your stuff – it's uh...for you anyway.”

“What is it?” Clint asked, turning the box over in his hands but not moving to open it. 

“I don't know if it's the same kind, but, the reviews on amazon were great.” Clint raised a brow. “Your shaker alarm. I uh...got you a new one.”

“You don't...” Clint's expression was a strange mixture – shock, confusion, something that maybe was a hint of embarrassment, perhaps a touch of defiance as well?

“Clint... It's something you need and I have no problem affording it.” Which was perhaps the wrong thing for Bucky to say because he was pretty sure that now, annoyance was actually one of the emotions Clint was feeling and he didn't want that. “How about you consider it a job related necessity like the team clothes?”

“I still...I don't want to be a charity case.”

“You are not one, not at all. It's stuff you need, it's...it's...a perk. A signing bonus. Free alarm clocks with every contract.” Bucky thought he might have to argue his point further, Clint's expression was stubbornly set, and really, he didn't know why he couldn't just accept the gift for what it was.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah...thank you.” Clint's smile was small but there and Bucky grinned in response.

“I'm sorry again about being a grumpy jerk this morning and this is not a pity gift or anything. I just...you needed it, I could get it for you. We're helping each other out here anyway, remember?”

“I mean, I guess?” Clint said with a shrug. “Though I feel like you're putting more into it – room and board and a wage and all.”

“Well, unlike some people,” and here Bucky coughed around the word 'Republicans,' earning a smile from Clint,” I'm good with the idea of giving more because I have more. Also – and I can't stress this enough – you have to put up with my stubborn ass on the daily. That deserves hazard pay.” That got him an actual laugh from Clint and Bucky found the sound terribly charming. As was the way Clint muttered something under his breath, tips of his ears pinking some when Bucky asked him to repeat himself. 

“I uh, I said your ass isn't so bad – despite the stubbornness.” 

Bucky very nearly found himself blushing at that. “Thanks,” he replied, his smile a little coy despite his best efforts. Sometimes it was hard being a natural flirt, he didn't want to seem unprofessional, but the flirty comments and looks just kinda happened. Especially when the other person said or did something similar. “So uh – what're you hungry for?”

He hadn't really meant it as an innuendo, and maybe some of it was on Clint for taking it that way as he smirked just a little – the tiny lift of the corner of his lips - before he shrugged and replied that he was good with whatever. 

Well, at least the day was going to end better than it started.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

“Okay, so for today it's hopefully going to be pretty chill. These outreach programs are some of the best things I get to do,” Bucky said as he and Clint ate breakfast. “Casual clothes are fine for this, jeans and a sweater – but definitely grab something with the team logo. You ever been on skates before?”

“Um...No. Is that a problem?”

“Well, if you wanna give 'em a try you probably could at this, we've got spares, I'm sure we'll find something your size. Otherwise, you can always walk on the ice too. I mean, either way I will need some help, even with having Jonesy - Gabe there.” The outreach program was geared towards LGBT+ youth and Gabe had gladly offered to attend as well, even before Bucky had injured his hand, keenly aware that even in 2017 some straight allies needed good role models (and that being a good role model in that instance meant offering support and being involved).

“Well, as long as you don't want me to teach the kids to shoot or anything,” Clint replied. “I may have grown up mostly in the Midwest but I don't know all that much about hockey.”

“Stick with me kid, and you'll be an expert within a week,” Bucky winked.

 

~~

 

The team paid for buses to bring the kids to the practice rink from the center Bucky had met them at once before; and he, along with Gabe, spent the first half an hour leading them around the facility talking all about how they trained and what they ate and how that helped them to be as healthy and fit as they could which in turn helped them be better athletes. Playing hockey wasn't only about what happened on the ice after all. Clint trailed along, taking pictures and likely tweeting (he'd had a briefing by the team's twitter manager and been deemed savvy enough to post freely on Bucky's account as long as he was good with it-which he was) and seeming as interested as the kids to learn about everything. 

It had only been eleven days since the injury, but Bucky still felt a pang when he sat at his stall in the locker room. He missed it dearly. He was going to be starting into his new training regimen at the end of the week, but it still wouldn't be the same as going to practice with the boys. 

“Pull 'em tight as you can,” he said to Clint as he helped him into his skates. It was a little awkward – he hadn't needed help with his own skates since he'd started skating when he'd been ridiculously young – but they would make it work. 

“Buck's known for being a little picky about his laces – no pressure though,” Gabe called out from his stall, earning a smattering of chuckles from the kids as they too pulled on skates. 

“All good?” Clint asked, holding out a hand to help Bucky to his feet. Bucky took a few steps, did some knee bends and nodded. 

“Your turn now.”

“Nah – I don't think so.”

“Aww c'mon, we've got some skates right here,” Bucky gestured as the equipment manager stepped forward to hand a pair over to a bemused Clint. “Clint here has never skated,” Bucky announced to the room at large. “Who in this room thinks he should try that out today?” Every single kid began to holler and clap, as did Gabe, the chaperones, and the assorted team staff present as well. After about fifteen seconds of that, Clint hunched his shoulders and waved his hand at them all then plopped himself down at Bucky's stall and removed his shoes.

“Okay, but if I end up injuring myself one of y'all's gonna have to be _my_ PA then. Going to create some sort of weird vicious helper circle or something,” Clint groused good naturedly as he pulled the skates on. 

Bucky didn't know what Clint was worried about, because after everyone had trooped out to the ice, grabbing sticks along the way, they all ended up staring expectantly at Clint – who took to ice skating with a great deal of ease. In a way it was almost anticlimactic – no windmilling, no pratfalls. Nothing.

“You sure he hasn't skated before?” Gabe leaned in to ask Bucky as Clint glided around with one of the younger boys.

“Don't think it's something you'd lie about, really,” he replied and sure enough, the more they watched the more they noticed there were one or two bobbles. Clint just seemed to have an innate knack for it. Or good balance. Or both.

With the injured hand, Bucky couldn't do most of the stuff he'd intended on, but Gabe was just as skilled as he was, and Clint took directions well, with only the occasional need for Bucky to physically move or adjust his hands or stance. He also was a natural with the kids, which helped a lot. 

At the end of the on ice session everyone was able to enjoy some healthy snacks and smoothies the teams chefs and nutritionists prepared for them. Then there were t-shirts and picture taking and autographs before finally the kids departed.

Later that evening while preparing dinner Clint turned to Bucky and thanked him for letting him help. There was something underneath what he said – the simple thank you. Something in the way he said it, the expression on his face... Bucky sighed inwardly and smiled because now there was something else about Clint Barton that he'd gotten a hint about and was looking forward to figuring out.

 

~~|~~

 

“I think I liked the idea of this interview a lot more when it was going to be done via video,” Bucky muttered to Clint as they stood together at his closet the following day. 

“Have I mentioned this is the most ridiculously large closet I have ever seen?” Clint replied and Bucky furrowed his brow a moment before breaking into a grin and laughing. Clint smiled back, looking quietly pleased. Despite the rough patches they'd had, things were really smoothing out now and Bucky was glad to have him around.

“Do I go understated and a little boring, or go with something a little more daring?” He had four different suits pulled out on display 

“I'm not that big into fashion, well – understatement, not into at all really, but I am guessing you don't want to go too overboard with the outfit so you avoid the whole stupid flamboyant label huh?” 

Bucky really wanted to make a comment about 'Really? I couldn't tell' in reply to Clint saying he wasn't into fashion but he wasn't sure they were at a comfortable enough level in their friendship for that kind of teasing yet, not to mention he didn't want to make it seem like he was insulting Clint for being poor and not having a ton of clothing. 

“A little bit that and a little bit I don't want whatever I am wearing to somehow overshadow what I am saying.” That wasn't usually a big deal for a man, except for when he was coded feminine by din of not being straight. It gave Bucky a much greater appreciation for the shit the women in his life had to put up with.

“I imagine that can be an issue what with the whole super handsomeness-thing you've got going on. ...I said that out loud didn't I? Oh God,” Clint's eyes went wide in panic and he brought a hand to his head one-part smacking himself, one-part hiding his face. “This will teach me to talk and think before having enough coffee.”

Bucky, meanwhile, was smiling and blushing just a tiny bit. “It's okay man, and um – thanks.” Everyone enjoyed getting compliments, and Bucky was no exception. “Really, thank you. It's nice to hear it from someone who isn't trying to get something from me.”

Clint peeked out from behind his hand very slowly. “You...get that a lot?”

“Way more than I'd like to,” he admitted with a shrug, carefully putting one suit onto the 'nope' side of the closet. A little too conservative. “People who want a one night stand or a fling or something. I mean, hockey isn't _that_ mainstream, but there are still people who just want to say they've been with someone famous.”

“And being the first out bisexual player makes you pretty damn famous huh?”

“Yeah,” he replied softly. Relatively speaking, anyway. It was probably a good thing he was too busy to truly think about a relationship because he was pretty sure he'd just get depressed with how hard it was to find a genuine one in his situation. Because if it wasn't people out to be with him to give themselves some sort of publicity boost, it was the opposite problem of both men and women who wouldn't date him because he was bisexual. 

“What about not wearing a suit?” Clint said, breaking Bucky from his melancholy.

“Hm?”

“Maybe don't wear a suit? Or at least a full one?” Clint grabbed a shirt and a waistcoat and held them together. “It's Good Morning America – you wanna look nice, yeah, but that's pretty easy for you. And I get that hockey guys are supposed to be a bit more dressy going to and from games and all that – looks professional but...” He crossed over to the bed to set the items down and then went to the tie rack to sort through them, pulling out a sleek silver one, then crossed over to another area of the closet to grab one of Bucky's newsboy caps. “You could get away with black jeans probably, if you don't want to wear trousers and your forearm is amazing looking enough that no one will mind you rolling up the sleeves on both arms to give the cast some room. So...yeah. A bit dressy, a bit casual, and frankly, as long as you smile you'll get away with anything, really.” 

Bucky switched his gaze between the items on the bed and Clint, whose ears were turning just a tiny bit pink at the tips. “You like my smile?” And that...wasn't entirely what he meant to ask. But ask he did – followed by a smile when Clint nodded.

“Yeah it's uh...it's a good one? I mean, well, didn't we cover your ridiculous handsomeness earlier on in the conversation?” Clint's eyes darted up to Bucky's eyes, then back down to the floor for some reason, eventually landing on his chest.

“I suppose we did,” he agreed, backing down because he could tell Clint was getting a little self-conscious. “You know – for a guy that doesn't know anything about fashion I think this is a good look.” He crossed over and grabbed a pair of black jeans from the dresser. Normal fit for when he wanted to look nice but not attract too much attention – not always the easiest feat for a hockey player since purchasing pants that weren't tight around the thighs and ass wasn't easy at all. He almost always had to have them tailored to fit better, though he did have a few that he purposefully kept because they were a little more tight. 

“I think you're going to have to help me with the shoes and socks at least,” he said, dropping his robe onto one of the chairs and grabbing the pants in his good hand...and promptly making a thoughtful noise. This definitely wouldn't be as easy as the sweats and track pants he'd basically been living in. 

“It's cute that you think you can get most of those buttons one handed,” Clint replied. Taking the pants from Bucky so he didn't have to hop around too much to try and get into them. 

“Well, it's easy to remove them one handed...” Bucky drawled out, smiling to himself at the bark of laughter that earned him while Clint retrieved the shirt and helped him into it. “I can even do that with my teeth.”

“A man of many talents,” Clint replied, smile tugging the corners of his lips as he carefully buttoned the shirt for Bucky. He smoothed one warm hand back down Bucky's chest to straighten things then stepped away again, clearing his throat, while Bucky tucked the shirt into his pants and Clint grabbed the tie and waistcoat. Clint's hands were careful and sure as he knotted the tie, fingers occasionally brushing against Bucky's chin, throat, and chest. A moment later he was making quick work of the waistcoat's buttons, then suddenly he'd steered Bucky back to a chair and was kneeling in front of him to help him into socks and a pair of boots. 

After tucking the bottom of the jeans around the boots, Clint's hand briefly came to rest on Bucky's knee and he raised his eyes so their gazes met. Bucky very nearly missed the softly spoken “All set,” he was so distracted by the sight of Clint kneeling before him.

“We should send a pic to Nat, see if she approves,” Bucky said after a moment, clearing his own throat as Clint rose to his feet, then offered a hand to help Bucky up as well. There was no reason to be distracted by Clint like that – he just hadn't had his coffee was all. With a shake of his head, Bucky donned his hat and smiled for Clint's phone, then followed him down the stairs to the kitchen and breakfast.

 

~~

 

Natalia met them at the GMA studio, once more praising them for the choice in Bucky's outfit and going over some of the questions he'd likely be hearing – mostly softballs since it was a morning show which tended towards fluff and feel good pieces when they could. They also hadn't argued with her at all on the few things that were deemed 'no-go'.

He didn't mean to, but Bucky couldn't help but watch as Natalia took Clint aside and spoke quietly with him, their body language difficult to read. She stroked his cheek once, kept a hand on his shoulder for a bit, and hugged him warmly at the end of the conversation. 

Bucky desperately wanted to know what they had talked about, but he knew he shouldn't pry and he let it fall to the back of his mind as he made his way onto the set and greeted Robin Roberts.

 

~~

 

The interview went off without a hitch and then the three of them enjoyed lunch together before being joined for coffee and dessert by a reporter for the New York Times wanting to do a quick piece since Bucky was in town and not on the road with the team.

The only hitch came up when she wanted to take a photograph of everyone – Clint nervously balking at first, before a word from Natalia eased his mind and he went with it. Bucky chalked it all up to him probably just being nervous and unused to the attention.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

“Hey,” Clint said to him as he entered the kitchen the following evening. Bucky nodded from his spot at the counter, waiting for the air popper to do its thing. 

“I miss ridiculously buttered popcorn,” he lamented to Clint, who grinned as he began to assemble himself a sandwich. “I guess it's a good thing I don't really go to the movies.”

“With the prices there it's not really all that worth it.”

“That's true, it's a weird system.”

“I've managed to flirt my way to a free bag a few times.”

“No kidding?” Bucky nodded, impressed. “Well, you've just officially become a hero in my book.” He was mostly teasing with that, though he had to admit the shy smile Clint had in response to his comment was nice.

“So what do you do for flavor?”

Bucky wiggled the small tub of fresh Parmesan. “This or herb blends, depending on my mood. And a little bit of butter spritzed on. Only a little though. The parm isn't half bad at least.” Clint's replying look was more than a bit skeptical. “Don't knock it until you try it.” Bucky thought for a moment, then asked, “Hey – you wanna watch the game with me?” He didn't mind watching alone, but it was more fun with another person. He hadn't thought to ask Clint if he was interested in watching before – probably because he'd still been working on getting his head out of his ass. 

It was a continual work in progress but he thought he was doing a lot better.

“Well...” Clint scrunched his face up in thought for a moment. 

“C'mon man, it's not as much fun to have a crazy rich dude media room if I can't share it.”

“You really call it that?” Maybe he was projecting a little, but he could have sworn something in Clint's expression was also saying 'and refer to yourself as that.'

“It is more exciting that just calling it a media room.”

“Well, I think you sold me on it.”

“Yeah? Great!” And Bucky found that his excitement was completely genuine. He really did want to spend more non-business time with Clint. “Just let me grab my snacks and we can head up in the elevator.” Clint nodded, then watched him for only a second or two before tsk-ing and grabbing things himself.

“Yeah no. No 'Rachael Ray Big Carry 'for you – we don't want things to get worse. And worse does include both additional injury and the crying that may happen if you drop your snacks.”

Bucky only grumbled for a brief moment, quickly seeing the wisdom of Clint's suggestion. And also seeing the wisdom in using the elevator versus the stairs. It wasn't being lazy (though occasional bouts of that were fine) it was being sensible. Safe. Navigating twisting stairs while carrying things was a challenge even without having an injury.

The best vantage point for the television (oversized of course, not quite at 'could potentially double for a mini home theater' level – though Bucky wanted one of those quite badly if he was honest – but on the road to it) was the couch. He and Clint settled in comfortably, the large popcorn bowl on the coffee table and their drinks and personal bowls ending up on the slide around side tables.

“Oh my God, side tables my ass - these are just tv trays for rich people,” Clint said as Bucky had pulled them around. He paused for a moment then laughed out loud as he sat back down. 

“Shit – you're right. I hadn't thought about that before, but yeah – you're totally right.”

“Do you have a bowl of random baubles somewhere too? I've seen the magazine covers and Gilmore Girls, aren't those a requirement?”

“I don't think I am at that level yet, thankfully. I'm pretty sure stuff like that requires some sort of divorce from reality at least on some level.” Bucky grinned, not at all offended, though he did briefly wonder if he could track down some cheap gold painted pears or something similar, just for the fun of leaving them in a bowl in the library where Clint could find them and he could lay in wait to hear his reaction. 

They continued to shoot the breeze for a little while, the pregame show on but muted, before a thought occurred to Bucky.

“So I never asked, which – stupid of me, I know – but...do you even like hockey at all? Like, it's not needed for the job – obviously – but...yeah.” Clint had done great at the outreach yesterday, but that could also be chalked up to spending time with the kids – which he'd clearly had an affinity for.

“Okay, don't hate me, but, I've never really gotten into it?” Clint replied, expression sheepish. “I don't dislike it, I just...” He scratched at the back of his neck briefly and his expression turned more serious. 

“My childhood wasn't really all that normal. My dad wasn't a good guy, let alone a good father, and my mom...” His expression was so torn. “There were moments when she was good. Great even, I suppose, though maybe that's colored by how easy to please I was when I was that young.” Clint looked young in that moment as well and Bucky bit his lip, not sure what to say or where this might be going.

“But uh – anyway – being stuck with my dad for so long...Well she had to find something to turn to I guess.” And Bucky took that to mean she'd turned to drugs of some fashion though Clint didn't elaborate. “So it was mostly me an' Barney – my older brother – being left to ourselves. Then there was an accident and then we really were left to ourselves. And I dunno about the system here, but back in rural Iowa?” He scoffed and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “So mostly it was just about surviving, no time for sports.”

“Clint, I...” Bucky trailed off. He had absolutely no clue what to say to that. It explained a few things about Clint's demeanor at times, how he reacted to things. The talk of knowing what it was like to have a broken bone. “I feel like if I say I'm sorry that's just stupid and empty and like I'm just trying to make myself feel better. But I don't know what else to say.”

“Most people don't,” Clint shrugged.

“Still...” Bucky chewed on his lip briefly. “I'm sorry that that happened to you and I'm sorry if I've ever said or done anything to make you feel...” He didn't want to say 'scared' but how else did he describe it? 'Put you back into that headspace?'

Clint's expression was melancholic as he waved away Bucky's concern. “You know, I suppose we really are doomed to repeat the mistakes of our parents – Barney got Dad's temper and drinking problem and I got mom's emotional issues and bad taste in men.” He said before he took a long pull from his beer, tilting it as if to make his point.

“The meds?”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “Though mine are totally legal whereas Mom's were most certainly not.”

“And they help though, right?”

“Eh...mostly. I mean, they help as much as they can but they're not magic and we have to tweak them sometimes. I do best when I have them and a therapist to talk to and a regular schedule and actual decent people in my life and stuff like that.” 

That explained why Natalia was so concerned and adamant that Clint be allowed to move in with him. It was probably difficult for him to find a more regular job that made allowances for his needs. And/Or to find affordable housing with decent neighbors. He couldn't imagine Clint having a hard time finding friends, Bucky genuinely enjoyed spending time with him, but the 'bad taste in men' part of the equation gave him pause – though he didn't know how to approach the subject at all. Hell, he didn't know Clint was even interested in guys. Was he gay or bi? Should he even ask? He didn't think he had the right to, especially to just sate his own curiosity. He'd just have to wait for Clint to bring that up again at some point in the future. If he brought it up in the future that is.

“So uh – now you know your PA is a bit loony,” Clint's smile was bittersweet and he'd probably intended it to sound deprecating in a more tongue-in-cheek way but to Bucky it ended up sounding more insulting really and that bothered him more than he'd expected it to.

“Nah, not at all. He's a little weird maybe, but, I know hockey players so that's a low bar. He is, however, really fucking brave.” Clint smiled at that, his small shy one – the one that Bucky was pretty sure meant Clint didn't want anyone to see it but couldn't help himself – and ducked his head with a nod of thanks.

The silence that followed was comfortable and Bucky was content to just sit and wait for Clint to be the one to start talking again when he was ready. He briefly thought about maybe thanking Clint for trusting him enough to reveal that about himself but he wasn't sure that felt right. He didn't want it to come across like he was complimenting himself inadvertently. Like he was saying 'Look at how good a listener I am.' This was Clint's show.

“You gonna teach me about your silly sportsball game or what?” Clint eventually asked, small smile still on his lips.

“Sports-puck game, thank you, the only balls are the ones in our jocks.” Bucky felt more than a little pleased when Clint laughed at that, especially because it wasn't even that good of a joke, and the mood in the room finally settling into something lighter once more. 

“Okay, so, please tell me if you're getting bored or I'm just talking too much or whatever.”

“And if I can't get a word in can I throw something?”

“Popcorn. Maybe a pillow?”

“Cool.” Clint paused and shrugged. “I suppose if all else fails I'll just turn down my ears.”

“Wow, okay – rude,” Bucky said with an exaggerated voice. He then looked at Clint with narrowed eyes. “You ever really done that before? To me or anyone else?”

“A lady has to have some secrets,” Clint replied with a grin that would put the Mona Lisa to shame.

“I'll 'lady' you,” Bucky said with mock outrage, tossing a few kernels of popcorn at Clint and getting a few lobbed at him in kind until they both were laughing too much.

“Each team can have a total of six players on the ice at a time,” Bucky began once they'd both calmed down enough. “Usually that means a goalie, two defensemen, and three forwards. Goalie and defensemen are pretty self-explanatory. The goalie stays in his goal – there are some rules to where he can go, for instance crossing the center red line when not in a time out of some fashion will result in a penalty. That doesn't happen too often though. D-men can and will join the offense, but their main role is to stay back and be ready to help the goalie, make life difficult for the opponents star players and the like. Got it so far?”

“Sure.”

“And finally the forwards.”

“And that's what you are?”

“Yup. I'm a center, to be specific. A forward line is made up of a center and two wingers – left and right. As a center I have a little more defensive responsibility and what most people would consider to be good vision on the ice.”

“I'm guessing it's not just vision such as seeing the puck and players?”

“You're right. It's partly that – it's a little harder than you'd think to keep track of everything but it's also... Yeah, I see a guy, and I see the puck, but I also need to 'see' or know where both are likely to go. Plan ahead, see the bigger picture and all that.”

“You must be great at chess.” Clint said after a moment and Bucky tilted his head before catching on to what Clint meant and laughing.

“You know, I've never played.”

“Maybe we could try it sometime. I can teach you like you're teaching me.”

“Sure.” Bucky nodded. “I think I'd like that.”

 

 

~~|~~

 

 

The following morning saw the two of them back at the closet contemplating suits again. “I promised PK I'd wear one of his,” Bucky said, nodding at the selection of three before them. “NHL Network is going to have me in studio, which is going to make life a tiny bit more difficult since I can't make faces when they say something stupid...” Which was entirely too often for most players and fans sanity. Unbiased commentary his ass.

Bucky paused briefly before asking, tone deliberate, almost cautious: “Is that the same shirt you had on on Tuesday?” He turned to look at Clint fully, noting that his posture changed, going shy and a little defensive. 

“I washed it yesterday,” Clint said in reply, chin jutting out defiantly, despite the rest of his body language fully settling into nervous. 

“No that's...fine.” He took a careful breath. “I'm not upset, Clint.” he reached out to place a hand on Clint's shoulder, willing to risk seeming patronizing in order to offer that extra bit of comfort. “Is that your only dress shirt?”

“I have another one, but it ripped when I tried to put it on this morning and I don't have enough time to fix it.” 

Several things went through Bucky's mind but he was careful to keep his face calm. Passive. “Why don't you borrow one of mine today until we have a moment to go shopping?”

“Oh, I don't-”

“It's okay. And trust me, it's better than letting the gossip rags think you don't have much.” 

“Why...Why would they even give a damn about or notice me when you're right there?”

“Because it's what they do?” Bucky shrugged. Nothing much made sense about gossip sites. “They were bullies at one point in their lives and never got past that? Or they were bullied and felt turn about was fair play? One or the other or something else entirely and either way, I don't want you get get pulled into that.” 

“But I'm nothing.”

“You're not nothing, you're just unknown. Which makes you all the more interesting.” Bucky stepped past Clint and grabbed three shirts from the closet, glad to have his face out of Clint's view because hearing him refer to himself as nothing bothered Bucky far more than it should. “One of these should work – we're close enough in size. Which one do you like best?” Clint was still silently sputtering, but grabbed one of the shirts.

“Good choice – the blue will go well with your eyes.” Very well, Bucky thought to himself when Clint slipped into the shirt. How had he never noticed before how gorgeous Clint's eyes were?

 

~~

 

“You really don't have to do this,” Clint said as Bucky steered him into a store after he'd completed his interview. 

“Yes I do. I can't have my PA looking anything less than perfect and you haven't lived until you've had the perfect fitting suit.” Clint gave him a deeply skeptical look and Bucky in turn simply smiled beatifically in reply.

“He's right about that,” a well dressed older gentleman said as he approached. “Good afternoon Mr. Barnes.”

“Coulson,” Bucky nodded. “This is my PA Clint Barton. He's going to need a few things. Mostly off rack, in the interest of time, but I'm hoping to get him something nice for tomorrow.”

“Of course Mr. Barnes.” Coulson glanced up and down Clint's frame, made a thoughtful noise. “Please follow me Mr. Barton.” He gestured for him to step over to the corner so he could take his measurements.

Bucky tried not to laugh at Clint as his expression traversed from skeptical to vaguely concerned and several shades in between as Coulson worked quickly with his measuring tape, calling out numbers to his assistant, Fitz. Bucky finally did laugh when Clint glanced up to meet his gaze and mouthed 'help me' when Coulson took his inseam.

“As you seem to have guessed earlier given that is a shirt I sold you, you are of similar sizes. I'd still try on shirts before purchasing - his wingspan is longer than yours and your shoulders broader than his.” He handed over a card that Fitz offered him. “Here is a copy of his measurements – we can easily have something done by tomorrow. Two if you'd like and don't mind that one is altered.”

“Thank you, that sounds excellent. A black and then...blue. But not navy.” Navy was good, but perhaps too understated for Clint. A brighter blue would look good on him. Really bring out those gorgeous eyes. 

“Excellent choice. The blue will be altered off rack, but the black we can do from scratch. I'll have them run over to your place by eleven tomorrow.” 

“You're a wizard as always Coulson.”

“I do my best Mr. Barnes.”

From there, Bucky helped Clint pick out a few shirts and pairs of trousers and even a new pair of dress shoes. Clint fussed, albeit silently for the most part – Bucky was getting better at reading the micro-expressions on his face, but didn't seem too upset. He did, however, turn to Bucky once they were back in the car. 

“You really didn't have to do that you know.” Clint was quiet and for a moment Bucky wondered if he was embarrassed or ashamed by everything, what he might call “all the extravagance.” 

“I already told you why, but if you need another reason I also just...wanted to.” Bucky shrugged. “I can't explain it, but, I have a decent amount of money and it's nice to spend it on friends and family when they need things.”

“You...you consider us friends?” Clint's voice was small, shy even, and Bucky smiled his warmest smile at him.

“Yeah Clint. I think we are. At least – if you're okay with it. I know I've said it before, but, I can be a bit of an ass...”

“Eh...you can...but your actual ass makes up for it, remember?” Clint replied, shyness gone in a blink and replaced by a wicked twinkle in his eye. Perhaps a coping mechanism on Clint's part (emotionally turning on a dime like that was a little strange) but Bucky didn't give that much thought. Because as more time passed and they became closer he could see why Natalia liked him so much. And why she thought they'd get along well. Between the complimentary senses of humor and the flirty streaks a mile wide they really were well matched.

There was no way in hell he was going to admit that to her, however. She'd be impossible to live with.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PK Subban, one of the lights of my life, has indeed designed a line of [menswear](http://www.rw-co.com/en/men-clothing-pksubban-collection). I like to think Bucky and he would get along well with their superior sartorial tastes and deep ties to their communities. 
> 
> And now - I want to say thanks for the comments and kudos. I'm bad at replying so please know they're all cherished. And I hate to ask, because I don't want to be that person, but I've had a very, VERY, bad week. Like I don't want to get out of bed and haven't been able to write so this is being posted today only because I have a few chapters in the bag, bad week. So if you have the time or inclination please hit that kudos button or maybe add a small comment? I could use some positive.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

“You really miss it, don't you?” Clint asked, pulling Bucky from his reverie as they stood behind the glass at the practice rink. The morning skate was still going on, though he could tell it was almost over from the way Phillips was nodding to himself while watching Peggy and Steve alternately pass to the rushing forwards. 

“Yeah, I do,” he said with a sad smile. “It's not for too long, I know that. But it still sucks.” Phillips blew the whistle and the team took off around the rink while Peggy skated up to him to discuss something. “I should be on skates again next week or so. In part to work on my endurance.”

“Won't that be dangerous?” Clint asked, eyes following the players as the whistle sounded again and they skated into a circle around the coaches. “I mean if you wipe out and land on the hand...”

“It can be, but I'll be fine. The majority of the work is going to be off ice, but I don't want to get too rusty either. It's all good, but thanks for the concern.” Clint was pretty awesome that way.

“Just looking out for you,” he grinned in reply. “I mean, you don't want to be stuck with me for even longer, do you?”

Truth be told. Bucky didn't think he'd mind that at all. He'd gotten rather used to Clint's laugh and warm smiles, his lame jokes and how he truly had no filter before he'd gotten a cup of coffee in him in the morning. He was easy to spend time with. Fun to be around. He didn't want to sound weird though, so he pressed on like he hadn't really heard the remark.

“Hey – we've got an amazing setup here – if you want to work out at all while I'm getting my butt worked off just bring a change of clothes with. I mean, you look like you've worked out before – your arms are pretty amazing...” It was the truth and normally Bucky had no problem sharing compliments with friends or people in general, but he felt a little something different when he said that to Clint. A weird awareness of the fact he was complimenting him and he didn't know why, though he did his best to ignore it.

“I'm uh – I'm an archer. Or was an archer? It's...it's complicated,” Clint said, ducking his head. 

“Yeah? No kidding...” The team was now doing cool down stretches, led by Trip in the center of the circle. “That case of yours – it's a bow then, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, pride evident in his voice as he continued. “My baby. She's a recurve, a Hoyt. She cost me a fortune, but she's worth it. Draws like a dream, sits light in my grip. She's not a tool, but an extension of me - if that makes any sense.” 

Bucky felt his lips curl into a warm smile as Clint spoke, the tone of his voice very much the same as Bucky's would get when talking about hockey, but he couldn't help but get a tiny dig in. “You any good?”

“I never miss.” And Clint didn't sound cocky so much as...certain. Bucky knew trash talk and cockiness – he was a professional athlete after all and there was always a measure of necessary arrogance to do what they did – and Clint didn't sound like that at all. It was difficult to explain, but it wasn't bravado in his tone, just a calm surety. A statement of plain reality, no different than saying the sky was blue.

It was fascinating.

“I think I'd like to see you shoot sometime,” he mused aloud.

“Maybe someday you will,” Clint replied.

Something passed between the two of them, a certain change in the look they were sharing, but before Bucky could even think about analyzing it he was being called away by the PR manager for a post-skate press conference.

 

~~

 

“I feel weird,” Clint said, as he swung his arms around, trying to adjust to the feel of his new suit.

“But you look absolutely amazing,” Bucky replied, eyes running over Clint's suit clad body in appreciation. It was a crime really that Clint had never worn a fitted suit before because it was a _very_ good look on him.

The press conference had turned into a small spot for a local news station and before Bucky knew it he'd had his game day nap (because despite not playing, daily schedules were daily schedules and hard to break) and then his usual pre-game meal and now he and Clint both were getting dressed and ready to head over to the arena.

“I bet you say that to all of your assistants,” Clint replied, looking quietly pleased despite the joking reply. 

“Well, I suppose so. One for one at this point anyway and since I'm not sure I'll want or need one after you it might just stay that way.” Whether Bucky meant he wouldn't need another PA at all or rather he'd maybe just keep Clint on he wasn't certain. He thought back to what Clint had said earlier in the day though. About how Bucky wouldn't really want him around for additional time. And once again he couldn't help but think about how much he liked having him around the house. It had been so quiet since Steve had moved out; and though Bucky liked his independence he also liked having another person around. He was just accustomed to it with his family and then billet housing and later living with teammates. Heck, it was part of the reason he owned the place he did now. More bedrooms meant he could have more people with him, right? 

The look of quiet pleasure on Clint's face in reaction to Bucky's comment made something warm in chest. Maybe he could convince Clint to stay on as a roommate if he didn't keep him as a PA. Heck, he could even get a pet or two if Clint would be there to take care of them while he was gone on road trips. 

And how great would it be to have someone waiting with words of encouragement or consolation when he got home after a game?

 

~~

 

Bucky's heart ached once again at not being able to head out on the ice for warmups along with the rest of the team, and he smiled gratefully at Peggy when she stepped up beside him on the bench and offered a comforting hand on his shoulder. It took him a second glance before he realized that between Phillip's blue suit, her lavender one, and Erskine's pink one, the main coaching staff was sporting the colors of the bisexual flag.

“I love you assholes, you know that?”

“Whatever gets you through the day Barnes,” Phillips replied, voice his usual gruffness, but gaze fond. Phillips wasn't a team dad type coach, more a stern but loving general. Sometimes you had to look closer, but the fact that he cared for them was there.

The team itself was decked out in themed pride jerseys that were going to be auctioned off during the course of the game and Bucky had gladly shed his suit jacket for one of them when he'd arrived at the arena. Pride tape had been distributed as well, and he was happy to see even their opponents, the Avalanche, had taken advantage of it. Steve, being the little shit that he was, had opted to go the extra mile covering the shaft of his stick in the pink-lavender-blue for bi-pride with the rainbow at the grip and on the blade. It looked obnoxious, but Bucky loved the punk for it.

There was a video montage that contained some of the team's earliest efforts for the You Can Play project, statements about growing more equality in hockey. Then it segued into the press conference Bucky had given when he'd official come out, coverage in the media he'd received, statements of support from not only his teammates but other players and teams throughout the league, and a collection of the best plays and milestones he'd achieved since then.

The public address announcer wrapped everything up with some last words and then announced Bucky by number and name and he crossed to the red carpet in front of the bench, keenly aware of the spotlight in a way he never would have been if he'd just been playing.

“Well – so this is a little different than I'd intended things to be,” he said, raising his cast and getting a nice laugh from the crowd. “But, I just want to thank my parents and sister for raising me right and being the loving, wonderful people they are. My teammates and the organization, our owner Jack Kirby and our GM Ed Brubaker for their continuing support. And, of course, to thank all of you guys for your support as well.” The crowd applauded and he had to pause for a moment. There was nothing quite like a good pat on the back when it came to sports fans. 

“There is still a great deal of work we have to do as a society to be more supportive of people of every sexuality and gender and race. To make people realize that no one is inherently more important or deserving of basic needs and rights because they were born into different circumstances than someone else. And though the NHL is far from perfect, I am proud of the strides we have made, even as I urge everyone to push for more. For the league to be better - and I see Natalia getting a little pinch on her face so I guess I'll have to leave things that vague for now,” he winked at her and smiled winningly at the laughter and applause of the crowd. Oh how he had wanted to name names and call certain teams and players out – but politics was politics and this night was supposed to be about support and celebration. 

“For all the kids and young adult out there who feel scared and alone, I hope you are able to find and surround yourself with good people like I have been able to. Please know you are wonderful and amazing and you can do anything you set your mind to and that there are people out there who will love you for who you are,” the applause was steadily getting louder and Bucky had to admit he was having a bit of a hard time finishing. “There are people out there who will love you for who you really are – and you will find them.” He maybe had initially planned on saying more, but ending on that note felt right – both to him and the crowd it seemed. Bucky smiled and sniffed a little, offering a wave to the crowd and making eye contact with Steve and the others as the applause continued around him. 

He didn't realize he was looking for Clint until he spotted him, tucked into the tunnel from the bench to the locker room. He was clapping just as enthusiastically as everyone else but Bucky wasn't sure he had words to describe the expression on his face. Hope and wonder? Longing and happiness?It was a curious and captivating mixture and he almost lost a moment until Steve brushed against him on his way to the end of the carpet.

“Looking good as always Gabe,” Bucky said to the captain of the Avalanche when he joined Steve. “Swedish model in addition to being a stellar player, this one,” he joked to the camera while Landeskog laughed as he lined up across from Steve for the ceremonial puck drop. Steve “won” and Bucky took pictures and shook hands with the both of them before waving once more to the crowd and making his way off of the ice.

 

~~

 

The game was a good one, fun and exciting to watch. The Avalanche weren't having the best of years but it seemed everyone had shown up for the game tonight and Steve and the boys were really having to work for it. As much as he loved everyone in the box with him, Bucky half wished he didn't have to entertain them all and could just focus on the game itself. But, his sister Rebecca was there and her fiance John as well and Bucky wanted to make sure he felt welcome and comfortable. He was more of a baseball man, but he'd been warming up to hockey over the course of his relationship with Rebecca.

His parents had gotten in their requisite fussing over him – how was his injury coming along, they were so proud of him, what a wonderful speech you gave – before engaging Mr. Kirby in a rousing conversation about the pros and cons of expansion into warm weather markets. 

Of course, the very first thing they had asked him, on the way up to the box, was “how is that nice young man Natalia introduced you to working out?” It made him feel like they were asking about a relationship or something and he'd actually choked on his own tongue for a moment before being able to reply that Clint was working out great – he was a real asset and turning out to be a good friend too.

Speaking of Clint - he was, surprisingly, quite animated with everyone in attendance. Bucky had pegged him as an introvert with how long it had taken for the two of them to really hit it off and act naturally but either he was really good at putting on a show or maybe he was an ambivert? Whatever it was, Bucky was glad to see him happy and comfortable. Making jokes with his parents and offering to grab refills on food and drink for everyone.

“Clint's pretty great,” Rebecca said, knocking her shoulder into his. “You really owe Natasha for that.”

“He's been a life saver more than a few times,” he replied after a brief glower at her. The shoulder she'd bumped was the one attached to his broken hand. “She was helping us both out really – he needed a job, I needed an assistant. Next time she wants a nice weekend somewhere I'm totally springing for it.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Rebecca very deliberately tweaked his forehead.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You are so thick sometimes.”

A few moments later Clint stopped by to check and see if Bucky needed anything, placing a hand on his shoulder and Bucky thought nothing of resting his head against Clint's arm as they chatted briefly before Clint gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before returning to his own seat.

“John, can you tell my dearest brother how obtuse he is?” Rebecca asked.

“If he were an angle he would be greater than ninety degrees,” he replied and Bucky was too busy laughing at the attempt at a joke (and how Rebecca consoled John about how cute his attempted math jokes were) to really think about what it meant.

 

~~|~~

 

A few days later found the usual suspects over at Bucky's for their bi-monthly poker night...and things were not going well. Bucky ran his good hand through his hair with a growl. It wasn't freaking staying in place. He knew the main source of his annoyance was the fact that he was losing at cards, but at the moment he was bound and determined to blame it all on his stupid hair. He tried tossing his head back to get it out of the way to no avail and then he heard a chuckle and instantly stilled as Clint came up behind him, running his fingers through Bucky's long hair and tutting gently.

“Y'know using your words and asking for help won't kill you,” Clint said quietly, scratching lightly at Bucky's scalp, causing him to sigh and his eyelids to droop.

“I dunno, it might.” Bucky's eyes slipping fully shut was just a coincidence, a reflex really, and he only tilted his head back to help Clint gather his hair and not at all as an invitation for him to scratch his nails against his scalp again. Which he did – and which Bucky very nearly made a pleased noise in reply to. 

“Mmmhmm,” Clint replied, carefully gathering up the loose strands and winding a hair tie he'd grabbed from his wrist around them, pulling Bucky's hair into a loose bun. “There you go. Beep me if you need anything,” Bucky heard him tap on his phone and totally did not lean into the hand that was pressed to his shoulder before Clint left the room. 

He let out another sigh as his eyes slowly re-opened, tension gone and posture completely relaxed.

Everyone was staring at him, expressions covering the gamut of levels of surprise...which were slowly morphing into smugness and shit-eating grins. 

“Well then,” Dum Dum opened.

“I do say.” Falsworth added.

Dernier said something in French that Gabe didn't bother to translate (not that it was needed since they all spoke at least a little French by this point, but it was their shtick – who were they to deny two the of them their shtick?).

“You and Clint seem...close,” Steve ventured, and of the entire group he was the only one that didn't look like a cat that had caught a canary – which didn't fool Bucky in the slightest.

“No. Don't you dare,” he said to Steve, then turned his gaze towards the last member of the group. “And no comments from the peanut gallery either, Rita.”

“Dude – Fallsy and Dernsy got to say their bits. Dum Dum too. S'not my fault Jonesy is taking the fifth and you're getting butt hurt,” Morita grumbled.

“I believe the lube is what stops that from happening,” Dum Dum said. “Are you not using enough lube?”

“We're not using any,” Bucky growled in reply.

“Well that explains the being butt hurt then.” 

The others all laughed at Dum Dum and Bucky might have too, except for the fact that it annoyed him far more than it amused him. Steve seemed to notice, he stopped laughing before the others anyway, and the look on his face was a little too contemplative, calculating almost, for Bucky's sanity. 

“I'm not sleeping with my assistant,” Bucky managed to reply, somehow not gritting his teeth.

“But you want to?” Steve asked and Bucky knew his expression was going to turn to something nasty soon if he wasn't careful. And Steve didn't deserve that.

“No!”

“Really?” Morita asked. “I mean, I'm not into dudes at all but I have to admit he's pretty damn fine.”

“Fills out a suit very nicely,” Falsworth pointed out with a nod.

“Well maybe one of you two should sleep with him then,” Bucky groused. 

Steve was still watching him very carefully.

“Okay, okay – so maybe you are, maybe you aren't interested in Clint. But man, I do think you need to get laid Barnes. You're a little too tense.” Gabe said, bringing an end to one round of commentary but opening up an entirely new one as that set everyone off on suggestions for people they knew that Bucky could ask out or have a good time with.

Everyone except Steve anyway.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if anything in the speech seemed a little preachy - and for the vague shots at the league and teams/players within it. Much like Bucky, I will not be voicing where my venom lands but it's there and it frustrates me that there are still people getting away with shit like sexism and racism and homophobia (also general bigotry and xenophobia) in a sport I have adored over half my life. Do and be better, NHL.
> 
> Anywho - tiny joke re Gabe Landeskog being a model c/o him actually being scouted by a model agency while doing a fluff piece prior to his draft (and the fact that several teammates have referred to him as 'male model Gabe Landeskog). Good times.
> 
> Thanks for the kind words everyone. :) This week has been better than last, albeit kinda weird the last few days at work (but mostly fun weird at least). I'm nearly caught up with what was pre-written before posting began, though since I have a week off of work and will not be visiting my mother (one reason I was upset last week) hopefully I can pull ahead a few chapters again and posting will continue on a weekly basis.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

West Coast games weren't bad at all when you were the one actually playing. Being there meant switching to the time zone and being able to enjoy the perks of the beach and weather. Watching games taking place on the West Coast when one was on the East Coast however... Well, Bucky didn't partake often, but he could totally understand how some fans considered them the worst. 

At least he had the luxury of being able to take a nap in the middle of the day to help him stay awake into the later hours.

He hadn't found Clint in any of his usual spots before making his way up to his bedroom for said nap and so, Bucky just assumed that he had gone up to the desk he'd claimed in the study off of the library to do a little reading or work or whatever. So it was quite the surprise when he walked into his room and found Clint conked out on the bed. There was an empty laundry basket off to the side and the sheets had been pulled down like he'd been in the middle of making the bed (even with both hands healthy Bucky had never been all that good at making his bed – he never asked Clint to do it, but, inevitably he would at some point in the day). 

At first he was concerned more than confused – had Clint passed out? Was something wrong with him? But his pulse seemed strong when Bucky carefully felt against his wrist and his posture looked more like he'd just laid down for a moment and accidentally nodded off. Straightening back up, Bucky briefly studied Clint's face; other than the slight shadows under his eyes he looked peaceful. 

He probably should wake Clint so he could continue about his day and Bucky could take his nap, but the shadows, slight though they may be, made Bucky think Clint could probably use a nap of his own. And sure, Bucky could easily go to one of the guest rooms for his nap, but, it wasn't like his bed wasn't more than big enough for two people to share. And so, he stripped down to his boxers and made to sit on the bed before thinking better of it and pulling on a pair of sleep pants. He didn't want to make Clint uncomfortable or anything. 

Speaking of uncomfortable, Clint still had his hearing aids in... Bucky padded softly around the edge of the bed to the other side again and reached his hand out towards Clint's left ear before pausing. Should he touch Clint like that without permission? Would it be more uncomfortable to wake up with them still in versus waking up with them out and in a strange bed and having no idea what happened to them? He couldn't really reach the right ear, not without actually moving Clint's head, so he ended up very gently removing the left one and placing it on the nightstand on that side of the bed, switching it off like he had seen Clint do. This way he'd still have one in when he woke up, and while it might make him mildly uncomfortable, he'd at least (basically) have all of his senses to help if he was disoriented. 

Mindful of the fact he was still fully dressed, Bucky covered Clint up only with the sheet so he wouldn't get overly warm and then crossed back to his side of the bed, pulling the sheet and a blanket up around himself and flipping the switch that turned off the lights and closed the blackout curtains.

 

~~

 

Bucky woke up he wasn't sure how much later, before his alarm at any rate, warm and content and wrapped comfortably around another body. He inhaled deeply and smiled against the t-shirt of the person he was cuddling...until his brain caught up to everything, his eyes snapped open, and he realized he had his legs tangled up with Clint's and his casted hand resting on his chest. How the fuck had he not woken up when that had thudded onto him? Because Clint was still fast asleep, head tilted towards Bucky's face, expression as relaxed and lovely as it had been earlier.

This could get very awkward very quickly and Bucky ever so carefully began to shift himself back and away from Clint's warm body. The strain of holding his injured hand up and moving it slowly so as not to startle Clint had his entire arm aching dully by the time he was back on his side of the bed, flipped over and facing the wall rather than Clint, unsure if he was shivering from the sudden loss of heat or perhaps the guilt or tension. 

What the hell was happening?

With a glance at the clock he realized he'd only been sleeping around forty minutes or so – he really shouldn't get up, not if he didn't want to be a grumpy jerk, but it probably would be better – safer – if he ended up biting the bullet and just going to one of the guest rooms. Of course, just as he was debating that, he heard Clint make a grumbling noise and then suddenly one of his arms was wrapping around Bucky, one of his legs wedging between his, and his lips were brushing against Bucky's bare back as he murmured something. 

Bucky went completely still, not even sure if he should breath. 

Clint made another grumbling noise and rubbed his face against Bucky's back. 

Was he waking up? Should Bucky wake him up if he wasn't? What would his reaction be? Would he be mad at Bucky for not waking him earlier and thus ended up in a position like that? 

As his mind was racing around in a circle of useless thoughts, his good hand seemed to get a mind of its own and settled over the one Clint had resting against his chest. Instantly Clint made a pleased noise and settled, seemingly falling back into a deeper sleep pattern. Bucky let out a sigh of his own and soon after fell back asleep himself as the tension draining from his body gave way to exhaustion.

 

~~

 

An hour later they both awoke at roughly the same time- Bucky due to the alarm and Clint due to Bucky's movements. Somehow they'd become separated again and no sign remained that they'd been cuddled together so closely.

Clint hastily explained he'd fallen asleep on accident after taking a moment to rest when he'd had a dizzy spell because of his medication. After reassurances from Bucky that he wasn't upset and thanking him for the thoughtfulness of removing at least one hearing aid, he grabbed the laundry basket and beat a hasty retreat back out of the room while Bucky watched him in contemplative silence.

Clint had given no indication he'd been aware of the cuddling.

 

~~

 

Later that night, Bucky grumbled and punched the pillow with his good hand before stuffing it back under his head. Not that it would make any sort of difference, he was still antsy and not in the slightest bit tired. It had been frustrating to watch the game and not be able to help, especially when the team had clearly needed it.

Everything in his life right now was frustrating really and he resolutely wasn't thinking about the nap earlier in the day. Not at all.

“You need to get laid Barnes,” Gabe's voice reminded him and he thumped his head back against the pillow because – yes – it had been a damn long time and it sure as hell would be great if he could, but that wasn't going to happen right now now was it? The average person could probably use Tinder or just wander over to a bar but he didn't really have that option. He hadn't even been able to jerk off for weeks now (really, had he known he was going to break his hand he would've jerked it the night before the game against Detroit because at least he'd be carrying around a little less tension due to that).

And okay, he was right handed and his left didn't hurt so bad anymore and he could probably keep it still above his head... 

But what about Clint?

He had no idea if Clint was still awake, he'd stuck around for about half the game before begging off to do other things, though the fact that he was deaf and that the place had very good sound proofing, not to mention that their bedrooms were not only on opposite sides of the building but also different floors, plus Bucky was always quiet during self service, made it very unlikely he would walk in on Bucky thus creating a super awkward situation...

With a huff he slid his hand down his belly and eased it under the waistband of his boxers to curl around his cock, already perking up a little just from thinking that he should give it some attention. And okay, what to think about, what to think about... 

A gorgeous pair of breasts, big enough for some heft, filling his hands comfortably as he kissed his way down her stomach. Rolling one and teasing the nipple as he savored the taste of her, flicking his tongue to gather her juices as her fingers slid into his hair, teasing over the bud of her clit...

And no. That wasn't working at all. His dick was still only half hard and his mind kept replacing rounded breasts with a flat chest and darker nipples. Stubble rasping against his chin as he scratched his fingers up a broad chest and was claimed in a harsh kiss. A firm hand reaching down to take hold of his cock, pumping once, twice, and more – his hips stuttering after.

God yes. It had been far too long since he'd been with another man.

He sped up, imagining calloused fingers catching against his skin in the best possible way. A free hand holding his hips down as the mouth that had claimed his tore away to press sloppy kisses to his neck, a scrape of teeth over one of his nipples, and finally a warm breath caressing his dick. The other man would lave his tongue across the tip, murmur about how good Bucky tasted, a smirk playing over devilish lips as Bucky whined and then groaned when he was enveloped in blessed wet warmth and suction.

Bucky would pant out a few fucks and tangle his hands in the other man's hair, making frustrated noises when he pulled off, only to groan long and satisfied when the heat returned and enveloped him fully for a tantalizing moment before pulling off again. He'd plead and babble as he was teased again and again and then damn near keen when blue eye's winked at him just before he was sheathed fully once more, his hands tightening almost painfully in the dark blonde hair as he swallowed around Bucky-

“Clint. Fuck, Clint!” Bucky cried as his orgasm burst forth, tearing him from his fantasy. 

And shit, shit shit SHIT! Bucky's eyes blinked open, past the euphoria of the orgasm, his face and neck heating in shame and embarrassment.

He'd just jerked off to the idea of his assistant blowing him. Like some sort of damn pervert. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

The relaxation didn't last at all as the shame of what he'd done, who he'd been thinking about, swept through his body. He went to pass his clean hand over his face and yelped as he clocked himself with his cast. Well wasn't that just fucking perfect?

Uttering a few choice curses, Bucky wiped his dirty hand on his boxers, tossed the sheets aside, and clambered out of bed to head to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he had all he could do not to bang his head against the mirror. His eyes looked a little on the wrong side of crazy, his cheeks and chest were still flushed from his arousal, hair sweat damp and sticking to his face and there was a scrape and a small welt beginning to form on his forehead were he'd smacked himself. 

His left hand twinged in pain and Bucky sighed, he'd have to take something to go to sleep after all. He pulled off his boxers, using them for a cursory clean up of the come on his chest and dick, before tossing them in the hamper and washing his hand. A new pair of boxers from the dresser and he was opening the door, not really wanting to bother with the struggle of putting on sleep pants when he was just going to grab a gatorade and some tylenol pm. 

He didn't really notice the light from the breakfast room, not until it was too late anyway, his opening the fridge and rifling through it for what he wanted making enough noise that by the time he closed it Clint had appeared next to him.

Bucky could have sworn his dick twitched at the nearness of him and did he lean in a little closer to him or had that been in his head? Clint's face held an expression Bucky couldn't quite name, and he felt himself flush as Clint's eyes swept over his bare chest. Shit – did he still smell like come? Clint was so close that if he did, there was no way he'd miss it.

“Hey Buck, you okay?” Clint's voice sounded almost husky – surely that was Bucky's imagination still running away with him.

“Yeah, I'm uh-”

“A little flushed. And how'd you get this?” Clint's slender fingers brushed over his forehead above the welt and it was all Bucky could do not to make a noise or lean up against him. The fantasy had been all too recent, too real, and the man in front of him so very, very, enticing.

“I,” his throat clicked, far too dry to talk and he took a quick drink from his gatorade, chalking up the idea that Clint's gaze lingered on his throat as he tilted his head back to swallow to his own imagination. The fact that his eyes looked a little darker to the lack of light in the room. “I couldn't sleep. Tossed and turned, covers off covers on, and uh – clocked myself in the face.” Bucky was proud of the rueful smile he managed to pull off.

“Somewhere in the city fans are crying out “not the face!” and they have no idea why,” Clint teased with a smile. 

A spike of _want_ hit Bucky in the gut so hard he nearly gasped. What he wouldn't give to back Clint into the counter and kiss him absolutely senseless. And then he did make a soft noise when Clint's fingers returned to his forehead.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean for it to sting.” Clint was shifting Bucky's hair to the side and tucking it behind his ear. The brief touch of Clint's fingers against him made Bucky shiver. “It's not so bad but I should probably clean it and put a bandaid on for the night at least. C'mon,” Clint said, nodding towards the bathroom. “Only take a second and then you can get curled up under the covers again.”

He thought Bucky was cold because he was mostly naked, rather than him having a reaction to his touch. To Him. That was a good thing, right? He shouldn't be a little disappointed by that, should he? He was only reacting this way because he hadn't had sex in too long and he'd just happened to fantasize about Clint and then ran into him soon after so his libido was a little eager. Awkward, sure, but it wasn't anything else. 

Bucky still found himself choking back a strained laugh as he followed Clint to the bathroom and sat calmly on the toilet while Clint grabbed a stool and a first aid kit and sat in front of him. Bucky's legs slotting in between Clint's spread ones so he could be all up close and personal. His ridiculously mesmerizing eyes bringing all that intense focus to bear on Bucky's face. There was no way in hell he could have sat the other way. Even briefly thinking about Clint between his own legs was a very bad idea. And he didn't want to think about what it would be like to have Clint's focus be turned onto making Bucky feel pleasure. 

Or well, he really _shouldn't_ think about that, but part of his mind was trying to drift that way while the rest of it was screaming at him to stop thinking like a perv. And because of that, he missed when Clint announced he was done, gently smoothing down a bandaid over the small cut.

“Thanks,” he eventually managed.

“You know,” Clint began as he cleaned up the papers and antiseptic wipe. “If you need a little tension relief I could maybe help?”

And Bucky's libido all too gladly suggested “bend me over the nearest surface and fuck me 'till I can only say your name,” which made him completely miss what Clint actually said next. Again.

“Sorry, what?”

“Sleepiness finally catching up?” Clint grinned at him. “I said, I've been told I give a pretty mean back rub, and uh, I could if you want?”

Oh God. That was...that was a recipe for disaster. Even if he hadn't just been fantasizing about Clint it probably would have been a bad idea. A massage was so...personal. Intimate. And sure, he got them at the arena all the time but that was all clinical in nature, the purpose to relax something in his body. And okay, Clint said he just wanted to help Bucky relax but...well, he wouldn't be able to relax while stretched out on a table - or worse, sofa or bed - with Clint's hands on him. The heat of his body close as Bucky's body became more and more pliable under his touch.

“I um...That's...” He swallowed heavily because yeah, certain parts of his anatomy were starting to indicate they could be interested in that. “We - I - I get massages at the arena from the staff and...and I don't want to mess up anything.” 

That – didn't sound that great as soon as it left his mouth and he cringed when he caught the brief flash of hurt on Clint's face.

“I'm – gonna go,” he hooked his thumb towards the door and stumbled to his feet, moving as quickly as he could without looking too guilty.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is kinda sorta my favorite chapter in this whole silly thing. I mean, who doesn't love accidental bed sharing/cuddling? Or fantasizing about the object of your affection with a chaser of awkward encounter with said person to follow?


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Bucky attempted to apologize for being so brief the morning after 'the incident' as he had taken to referring to it as, but Clint had merely waved it off like nothing had happened. Maybe that meant Bucky had imagined the look of hurt on Clint's face when he'd stuck his foot in his mouth. He wasn't entirely convinced though things went back to normal quickly enough and neither of them brought it up again.

Of course, Bucky's little problem of suddenly realizing he was attracted to his PA did not go away so easily and he found himself being extra cautious in his interactions, always mindful of how close they were. Uncomfortably aware of how Clint's hands felt against his skin when he helped him waterproof his cast before a shower or get dressed afterwards.

And jerking off hadn't really helped after all, because Bucky's libido was still pretty keen on seeing some action.

A solution to his difficulties manifested itself a few days later when he got a text message from Elias Nilsson of the Wild, informing him that the team would be arriving in New York in the early hours of the 26th and asking if he might be open to spending some time together later that day since their coach had given them free rein to do whatever until morning skate on the 27th. 

Elias was not officially out, his secret kept close mostly by other Swedish players across the league as well as a collection of trusted non-countrymen. He was a little older than Bucky, comfortable with himself, but also not willing to expose his personal life to the type of scrutiny that would come from being open about his sexuality. 

If things were different Bucky had to wonder if they'd be able to date. They flirted like crazy and had become good friends over the years, especially during the time Elias had played for the Flyers, but they'd never done anything more than a few heavy make out sessions, Elias well aware that Bucky wasn't entirely keen on keeping a relationship secret and that neither of them was really the type for a friends-with-benefits situation. They had fun together though, and Bucky figured he could use a little fun right about then.

Bucky explained all of this to Clint the morning of the 26th (wondering if he was being a giant asshole for asking Clint to be scarce). “So uh – you can have free rein in the media room, we're going to head to the living room after dinner I think. It's more uh..more...”

“More intimate?” Clint suggested and Bucky wondered briefly why he felt like such an idiot and how Clint looked so cool and calm. 

“Yeah.” He nodded in reply. “Thanks for being cool about all this.”

“No problem, we're friends, right?” Clint said with a shrug, his eyes not quite meeting Bucky's (though in his nervous state Bucky didn't realize that) when he finished with: “You like this guy and I imagine you've been looking forward to a date.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Bucky smiled in reply, not really picking up how Clint's smile faded quickly and never made his eyes.

 

~~

 

Elias arrived while Clint was setting out the plates and foods and he was just about to scold Bucky before Clint assured him he hadn't made the food, just grabbed the delivery and wanted to set things up so Bucky didn't fumble and break anything. Bucky rolled his eyes as the two of them bonded over making fun of him, but found himself secretly pleased they seemed to get along – at least superficially anyway.

“If you can, you should fly over this summer. Foppa is going to have a charity golf event,” Elias said later, after Clint had departed and they'd sat down to enjoy their dinner. 

“Yeah?” The meal was some sort of delicious chicken dish that Bucky couldn't quite recall picking out. Maybe he had narrowed it down and Clint had done the choosing for him?

“It should be a good time. We'll have Gabbe, the Sedins, the Gavle contingent also, which probably means we can grab the other two Swedish Caps and at least a few other Canucks as well, The Lundqvists are in as well as the Stork, my name twin, and the other Canes.”

“Nice.” If Clint had chosen it he'd done a great job – he knew Bucky's tastes better than he did sometimes.

“You can join Ozo as an honorary Swede.”

“Mmm.” Heck, Clint had had this outfit set out on the bed before Bucky had even asked for him to help with picking out something to wear.

“You know, speaking of Gavle, we were thinking of putting a giant goat on the 18th.”

“Hmm.” Bucky didn't think he would've picked the purple shirt on his own, but he had to admit it was a nice look.

“I mean, it's not Yule, but what the hell. The fire will be glorious and we can dance naked around it.”

“That'll be – wait, what?” Bucky's eyebrows shot up in confusion.

“And there you are.” Elias smiled. “You were miles away for a minute there. What's wrong?” He reached out to take Bucky's hand, running a thumb across his knuckles in a comforting manner.

“I'm so sorry,” Bucky shook his head. “I just – got a lot on my mind, you know?”

“Of course,” Elias nodded and released Bucky's hand so they could return to eating. “How is your recovery coming?”

“Good. Great, actually. Docs think I'll be out of the cast sometime the week of the fifth.” It fit with the timeline so far, and he'd still need help as he got himself back into game shape. He'd promised Clint until the end of March either way (and longer if necessary).

“You'll be able to catch a few March games then, sounds like. Be back to normal before you realize it.”

“Yeah,” He was getting closer and closer to things going back to normal. And that was a good thing – right?

 

~~

 

They'd retreated to the living room after dinner, curling up together on the couch to watch a pair of episodes of Supergirl. “I like it,” Elias had said after they'd finished the second one. He pressed a soft kiss just under Bucky's ear before asking, “What made you give it a chance?”

“My uh, my PA likes it, actually,” Bucky replied, tilting his head to give Elias more access, then frowned when he stopped nuzzling.

“Clint, hm?” Elias had a contemplative look on his face when Bucky nodded. “We are okay here, right? He will not have a shock if he comes in?”

“Clint's good for the night. His room is towards the back and he likes to use the back stairway anyway. Plus – the tv is better in the media room, which he has control of tonight.”

“You're showing me the inferior tv...” Elias sighed dramatically.

“But this is the comfier couch...” Bucky said, pressing his lips to Elias's jaw.

“Okay, I suppose I forgive you this time.” And with that he guided their lips together.

 

~~

 

Bucky wasn't sure how long they made out on the couch with a random music station playing in the background; but eventually things were getting a little too heated for the living room and, after exchanging heavy looks, the two of them made their way upstairs to his bedroom. 

And yeah, this is what he needed, he thought as Elias carefully peeled the shirt off of Bucky's torso, his own having been flung onto one of the chairs near the door. They both moaned as their bare chests pressed together when they met for another deep kiss. Clearly it had been a while for Elias as well. They wrestled for control briefly, before Bucky allowed himself to be laid out on his back, Elias holding himself up over him long enough to mutter about how gorgeous Bucky was before they were back to kissing. Bucky's good hand reached up to grab a handful of Elias's ass and he chuckled against Bucky's neck before sucking a few kisses into it, his own hand sliding down Bucky's chest until he could cup his growing erection in his hand through his jeans.

“Ah, Clint,” Bucky murmured, hips pressing up into the pressure on his cock. Elias went still above him and Bucky managed to press a kiss to his jaw and cheek before he moved smoothly off of him and flopped onto the bed beside him. “Wh..what?” He swallowed and took a breath, “What's wrong?”

“It's um...it's...” Elias sighed. “I don't think we should be doing this right now, James.” The tone of his voice was a little hurt but more...resigned. And that was the first time in a long time he'd used Bucky's given name.

“Um...Why?” Bucky asked, glancing down and confirming that yup – Elias was just as into this as Bucky was if the bulge in his pants was any indication. “What's wrong? Is it the friends with bennies thing? Because I think we'll be okay.”

“It's a little bit that, but,” Elias sighed again and sat up, ruffling his dark blonde hair. “I don't think you realize what you just said, do you?”

“About the friends with benefits?” And Elias gave him the epitome of a 'bitch please' eyebrow. “So before that when you – oh. Oh. Fuck me,” Bucky sat up as well, swinging around so his feet hit the ground. He'd said _Clint's_ name while making out with someone else.

“You know, I'd love to, I really would, but I don't think you really want me to,” Elias joked.

“I'm so sorry Elias. God – I'm an asshole, I really am.” And he felt himself deflate, shoulders hunching and chest aching. Well this was a fine situation he'd gotten himself into.

“It's okay James, really,” Elias slid across the bed and sat next to him in order to place a hand on his shoulder. “You're just...a little confused, that's all.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Bucky's head and handed him his shirt before getting up to go and grab his. They were silent as they both redressed and pulled themselves back together. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elias asked as he pulled Bucky to his feet and guided him over to the chairs where he'd put two bottles of water out while Bucky had been busy staring down at his toes.

“I dunno...I just. It's a weird situation.” Bucky said, collapsing onto a chair and watching Elias sit much more gracefully on his. Stupid perfect Swedes. 

“He's an attractive man and you find him attractive. That's not so strange,” Elias said with a shrug. “And from what I have heard, he's a lovely person as well.”

“He's my employee,” Bucky replied. “That's the weird part.” Because hello power imbalance. Yeah, Bucky found Clint attractive, but it's not like he could act on it without it being somehow compromising for Clint. 

“This is a completely wild concept, but, have you thought about asking him how he feels?” 

“No?” Because wouldn't that also be putting Clint into a compromising situation? Elias sighed and crossed over to the dresser to grab Bucky's phone. “What are you doing?”

“Calling in some reinforcements,” Elias muttered, offering an absent pat to Bucky's head. “Because while you and I are going to have a long talk tonight, I think you need to hear some things from someone else as well. You North Americans and your stubbornness.” 

“You're texting Steve, aren't you?”

“I'm texting Steve, yes.”

Well, now Bucky was in for it.

 

~~

 

True to his words, the two of them did talk, for several hours, before Elias retreated to one of the guest bedrooms for the night. The following morning Clint asked Bucky how things went, his eyebrow raising dangerously high when Bucky said 'okay' but wouldn't elaborate more than mentioning the sheets in the guest bedroom would need washing and Elias offered the both of them a hug and a peck on the cheek before leaving. 

“He...can be informal with people he considers good friends?” Bucky offered, mind still full of everything they'd talked about the night before.

“Did...” Clint took a breath as if to rally his thoughts. “Was it because of me that things didn't...happen last night? Should I have gotten a hotel room or something? Was he not comfortable or...”

Bucky really wanted to laugh at that because, yeah, it was entirely because of Clint that things didn't “happen” last night, but he was pretty sure the actual reason was not what Clint was thinking about. “No Clint, you're fine. Elias and me...we're just better off as friends,” he managed. “We had a good time and a good talk though, which is really what's most important.”

“Okay...good. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself,” Clint said with a nod before turning to the fridge to grab the ingredients for breakfast.

 

~~|~~

 

“Is it okay for me to have a friend over?” Clint asked him the day after the Wild game. 

“Of course it is,” Bucky replied. This is your place too.” At least for a little while longer he wanted to say. Was a little afraid to say, actually, because he wanted Clint around longer than until the end of March – though he had no idea how to tell him that. Or what to do if he did end up telling Clint he was interested in him only to find the feelings were unrequited. Because he enjoyed their friendship a great deal and revealing his attraction could potentially ruin it. He certainly couldn't see Clint wanting to stay with him if he found out Bucky thought about him while jerking off and didn't feel similarly. It would be entirely too skeevy.

“Cool – is tonight okay you think?”

“Anytime is fine Clint, but tonight works pretty great actually because it means I won't get in your way. Steve's picking me up for a besties date.”

“Do the two of you actually call it that?” Clint asked, forehead scrunched up adorably. 

“Yes we do.” Bucky grinned, laughing outright when Clint mouthed 'Okay – weirdos' at him before winking and dancing lightly out of the way of the light swing Bucky took at him with his good arm. They spent the rest of the day puttering around the house, Clint doing the occasional chore with Bucky “supervising” (aka teasing the heck out of him). 

They did manage some actual work as well with Clint rattling off appointments he'd made or postponed for Bucky, meetings for new endorsement deals since his speech on Pride Night and the like. Once they'd finished with that, Bucky rose from his chair to stand behind Clint, stroking a hand over his shoulder before squeezing it while saying, “I've no idea how the hell I managed all this before you, I really don't.” 

“Oh I'm sure you managed just fine with Nat, but thank you,” Clint replied, his head brushing against Bucky's stomach as he leaned against the back of the chair (and him) and glanced up, expression pleased at the praise.

It took all of his willpower for Bucky not to flatten his hand against Clint's chest and lean down for a kiss.

 

~~

 

The doorbell rang while Bucky was grabbing a six pack from the fridge and he called over his shoulder “I'll get it, but I think that's yours – Stevie has a key,” as he deposited the beers on the counter and made his way to the door. He hoped Clint managed to catch at least some of that. Maybe he could get a light installed or something to hook the doorbell up to Clint's phone?

“Er...Cameron, how's it going?” He managed after opening the door. He wasn't sure who he was expecting it to be, but Klein wasn't it. 

“Hey man – thanks for letting me hang tonight. Clint was mentioning your tv and we're going to watch some movies and then catch this awesome documentary on the importance of identity, heritage, and memory in the creation of the superhero genre by primarily Jewish writers and artists... and you really didn't need to know that...” Cameron babbled as he sort of shuffle-stepped into the foyer with Bucky. 

“Nah, it sounds cool man, c'mon in,” Bucky replied, escorting him into the main gallery. He hadn't realized Clint and Cameron talked beyond the pleasantries exchanged when Clint brought Bucky in for practice and PT. 

“Is that a real Sisley?” Cameron's eyes went huge when he spotted the landscape above the mantle. 

“Yeah, got it from the Starks actually. Long and strange story behind it, but Peg knows their butler really well and it turns out they're fans and – hey Steve,” Bucky nodded as Steve let himself into the gallery...the same time Clint came down the staircase behind them wearing one of Bucky's hoodies. Bucky suddenly forgot he was speaking, couldn't quite recall that there were other people in the room because oh fucking hell did Clint look _good_ in his clothes. Something dark and a little primal reared up in his mind as Clint greeted Cameron with a fist bump handshake that turned into a hug. He wanted to walk over and place himself in between the two of them because he had seen Clint first, dammit. 

But Clint was a person, not a thing, and Bucky had absolutely no claim over him. No one did. Furthermore, he'd been a complete and total jackass several times that first week so it wasn't a surprise at all that Clint had bonded with a nice guy like Cameron.

“Let's grab some beer huh?” Steve said, tugging on Bucky's arm to get him into the kitchen. He raised a single eyebrow at him, leveled a look that said 'we will be talking and you will not avoid the subject' then grabbed the beer and tugged Bucky back into the gallery for some quick goodbyes and then ushered him out the door to his car.

 

~~

 

Steve took pity on Bucky and didn't even try to engage him in discussion until they had escaped to the confines of the brownstone he and Peggy owned. He even was kind enough to let Bucky plate up a few slices and take a bite before leveling him with his 'you cannot and will not argue with me' look and said, “So – finally willing to admit you have feelings for Clint yet? Because I've got to tell you a blind man could've picked it up with that display back there.”

Bucky gave him a withering stare and pointedly took another bite once he'd finished the first one, chewing thoroughly and swallowing loudly. “Yes Steve, I have the hots for my PA, you called it. Happy?”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Buck,” Steve threw his hands up. “This doesn't have to be hard you know. It really really doesn't. Just talk to the guy. Let him know what's going on. I can't imagine he isn't picking up on something bothering you.”

“I don't know where you're coming from thinking it's gonna be easy,” Bucky spat. “He works for me Steve, do you have any idea how fucking weird it would be? How difficult to say something like that is coming from where we both do?”

“Peggy is our coach, it's not that weird for me.”

“That is not the same thing.” Bucky rolled his eyes, clearly implying the 'and you well know it' part of the statement.

“Well no, she doesn't pay anyone on the team, but you can't tell me there isn't an inherent power imbalance there. And that if she were a lesser person she could take advantage of me because of it.”

And that was true, it was why on most levels where both parties were over the age of consent, relationships between players and coaches were forbidden either flat out or heavily stigmatized to the point of being non-starters. 

“And since you are just as good a person as her I don't see how telling Clint you're interested in him could be a bad thing. You won't withhold any pay from him if he doesn't reciprocate will you?”

“Of course I wouldn't!” Bucky replied, taking a pull from his beer. “I just...I don't want to lose him is all.” And that was a pretty big thing, wasn't it? He didn't want to fuck up a good friendship. Feelings had an awful way of doing that.

“Why would you lose him Buck? If things were the other way around and he was into you but you weren't feeling it, would you still want to be friends with him?”

“Well, sure, he's an awesome guy. He's funny and smart and just – he's easy to be around. I like being around him. I like that I can be me around him and he doesn't seem to care. He'll call me on my shit and put me in my place and, it's okay. It's...it's done out of kindness I suppose? He doesn't care about my money, it seems to confuse him more than anything when I do things for him and fuck I want to do everything for him. Like not just everything in a sex way – although hells yes to that, but also - just _everything_. He deserves good things...” Bucky trailed off and he felt his eyes widen. “Oh my God.” 

Steve smiled at him. 

“Oh my God, shit, Steve-”

“It's okay Buck,” Steve stood on his toes so he could stretch across the bar and put a hand on the back of Bucky's neck and press a kiss to his forehead before pressing his own against it. “It's going to be okay.”

“I dunno Stevie...” there was a whine to his voice, not the whine of someone who wasn't getting their way, but more the whine of someone nervous, someone scared. Frankly, Bucky was pretty sure he'd be less nervous in a shootout at the Olympics or triple over time during the Cup Finals than he would at the realization that not only was he attracted to Clint, but that he was falling pretty hard for him as well.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself, I had to string things out a little longer for Buck; who is now, at least, completely un-oblivious about how he feels. Yay? Yay.
> 
> While, Elias is an OC, I did name drop like a nerd, if anyone wants to guess at the players feel free - I might end up putting a list if anyone really wants. I will identify that I referred to Nicklas Backstrom (Caps) and Jacob Markstrom (Canucks) as the 'Gavle Contingent' mostly just to make the joke about the [Gavle Goat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%A4vle_goat). You're welcome. 
> 
> ps: Pardon me not using the proper vowels for the above - I didn't want to argue with the coding. It's going to be a minor miracle as is if I didn't miss any typos or anything with the wonderful cold I'm dealing with.
> 
> Sisley is Alfred Sisley an Impressionist known for his landscapes. I love me some Impressionists.


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Okay. No problem. Bucky knew he could handle this. Really. He was into Clint and all he had to do was tell him that. Honesty was the best way to handle this type of thing after all. And by coming out and telling him sooner rather than later it wouldn't be so bad if Clint didn't feel likewise because Bucky's feelings wouldn't have more time to deepen. 

But, Bucky always felt he was more a man of action than words, certainly doing things was much easier than talking about things, so he decided that his first order of business was setting up a Grand Romantic Gesture to test the waters. Plus, as he'd told Steve, he wanted Clint to have good things in his life.

Even if he got shot down at least he'd be able to make Clint happy.

While Mr. Kirby owned the team and the practice facilities, the Russo brothers were the ones in charge of the facility itself so he went to them with his idea. They were a little skeptical but gave their consent and then it was just a matter of tracking down the supplies he needed and having them help him set it up (or really – set it up for him because he had to keep Clint away and distracted).

“You know, I don't see how you couldn't wait until tomorrow morning for this. It's not like you won't be back bright and early for more PT,” Clint said as they pulled into the parking lot. “I don't even remember you bringing your laptop to the rink this morning actually. You sure you looked for it hard enough back home?”

“Yeah, m'sorry. I was working on a spreadsheet and then just left it behind on accident. And you've met the jerks on my team, it might already have dicks all over it or something,” Bucky replied as they got out of the car.

“They're on a road trip?”

“Dum Dum's spies are everywhere. Everywhere,” Bucky enunciated with a twirl of his finger, before swiping them into the door. He led Clint deeper into the place, but rather than head for the lounge area where he'd “left his laptop” he turned towards the tunnel to the rink. 

“Lights are on in the rink,” he said in reply to Clint's questioning noise. “Let's see what's going on.” Bucky walked into the rink first, though he stepped to the side soon after, wanting to see the look on Clint's face as they approached the ice.

“I don't... What?” Clint's expression was a mixture of shock and confusion.

“I know its not perfect and I probably should've just found a range or something but...I wanted to let you be able to shoot?” Bucky said, glancing down at the bench and then out at the ice because suddenly he felt a little foolish. “It's cold, so I know that might make it hard and the distance...well... If you stand at center ice its about 16 meters, so probably the far blue line or beyond would be best? I read indoor ranges are usually 18-25 meters...” Or he could probably move the targets back a bit...and maybe stop babbling?

“You did this? For me?” 

The awe in Clint's voice made his heart stir but Bucky still couldn't quite bring himself to meet his gaze, he just nodded in reply.

“Bucky I...” Clint placed a hand on his shoulder that quickly slid to his neck, grasping lightly to turn him back to facing him. “This is amazing. No one's ever done anything like this for me. Thank you.”

 _'You're amazing'_ , Bucky really wanted to reply, his throat drying up as his body warmed at the look Clint was giving him. How nice his hand felt against his neck. And then he let out an 'oof' when Clint pulled him into a fierce full body hug that lingered both too long and not long enough for Bucky.

“Really Buck, thank you,” Clint said, pulling back but keeping his hands on Bucky's sides. 

“Well, I just wanted to do something for you that wasn't crazy money weird,” And Clint did raise a brow and tilt his head towards the ice where several targets were set up on the far end and at center ice a large box of arrows was waiting. “Okay, maybe a little crazy money weird but...” Bucky bit his lip and glanced down then back up at Clint. “Seeing you happy like this is all worth it.” Clint pulled him in for another hug and Bucky relished how his body felt pressed against his. Tried to memorize it because although this was going well so far, it didn't mean everything else would go as smoothly.

“How'd you get my bow out of my room without me realizing?” Clint asked as he carried the case to the arrows and the carpet that had been placed at center ice. With a thoughtful noise he ended up pulling everything back to the blue line behind it

“Uh...Nat grabbed it while we were eating dinner.”

“How many people did you rope into this endeavor?” Clint asked, smile amused and eyes bright as he pulled on his shooting gear.

“More than I want to admit but not, like, a small army or anything.”

“Well...pass on my thanks to this not-quite-a-small-army then, please?”

“Gladly,” Bucky replied, a feeling of warmth settling in his stomach as he watched Clint remove his bow from the case, murmuring softly to it as he glanced a critical eye over it. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“Nah, it's cool. Just letting her know it's time to stretch a little is all.” There was the faintest blush on Clint's cheeks, and if Bucky hadn't already been smitten that would've done it. “Just stand a little ways behind me, okay?” At Bucky's nod he turned his full attention back to the targets and promptly shot two arrows into the bullseye.

“Damn,” Bucky said, following a whistle, duly impressed. Clint made a non-committal noise and rolled his shoulders. Bucky couldn't quite make out what he muttered after that, but then he was a flurry of activity, sinking arrow after arrow into the center target. It took a moment for Bucky to figure out what was happening – aside from the first few the others were not exactly near the bullseye, but soon enough it became apparent that Clint was shooting a symbol into the target. No, not a symbol – a letter. The letter 'B' in fact. 

No sooner had Clint finished the 'B' than he glanced back at Bucky – and promptly shot no look bullseyes into the two side targets as well. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky eventually said, more than a little afraid to look down to check and see if he'd popped a boner because he didn't think he'd ever been that turned on by a show of skill in his life. 

“And that was just a warmup,” Clint replied, eyes pleased and smile confident, bordering on cocky.

Bucky wasn't sure what he had signed himself up for, but damn it was going to be an interesting evening.

 

~~|~~

 

An evening later found the two of them on the couch at home as had become their custom when the team was on a road trip. Clint had spent the better part of an hour shooting the evening before, making ever increasingly elaborate shots and designs for Bucky's amusement. They'd both had fun and Clint had thanked him over and over for setting that up, but nothing else had happened. Still, Bucky counted that as a win. 

With the Grand Romantic Gesture accepted so well, Bucky moved on to the second part of his plan which saw him shifting on the couch as he and Clint watched the game. The shifting was more out of nerves than physical discomfort, though it was intended to look like the latter so that he could pull off tonight's plan. 

Not that it was really much of a plan – ask for back rub, allow body to react to back rub, kiss Clint. Well. Probably ask Clint how he felt while Bucky was showing how he felt and then hopefully kiss him. Not the best plan and there probably should be more actual talking involved his inner Steve voice was saying (which was rich considering the voice's template was Steve 'punch first ask questions later' Rogers) but it was what Bucky was going to go with.

“So um...I was wondering?” Bucky began catching Clint's attention and waiting for him to nod 'go on.' “Is that offer of a back rub still on the table?”

“I thought you didn't want to mess up any of the professional's work.' Clint replied and okay, Bucky deserved that and how flat Clint's delivery of it was.

“Sorry about that. Again. That was a major dick move on my part. I was tired and...and there's a lot of shit going on in my mind.” He probably should just tell Clint. “But I uh – if, if you're willing I'd like to try?” And he couldn't do it.

“Right now?” Clint glanced between the game and Bucky. “The game's not even over.”

“My back's being a jerk and I'm sure they've got it in hand.”

“Okay,” Clint shrugged and nodded at the same time. “You need to change or anything?” Bucky shook his head – it was fine if any oil got onto the pants he was wearing, and the two of them made their way down to the basement. In addition to the workout area he also had a little alcove for PT activities – including a massage table.

Bucky took a few steadying breaths as he pulled his shirt off while Clint was grabbing towels. This was going to go okay. 

“For a guy who was weird about getting a massage you sure have a lot of oils for it,” Clint said, peering into one of the cabinets.

“Okay, I deserve that,” Bucky said. “In my defense, they do house calls. Also, some of those are bath oils for when I want a therapeutic soak. Also also – I'm picky about scents.”

“My special little snowflake,” Clint teased earning a hearty laugh from Bucky. “Guess I can't go wrong then, picking one out.”

“You really can't,” Bucky said as he stretched out on his stomach. “Actually, grab the oval tin – it's a solid bar, slightly less messy and it smells like coffee. You like coffee.”

“I do like coffee,” Clint agreed, then carefully sniffed the bar. “Damn. A man after my heart.” 

_'You have no idea,'_ Bucky thought smile turning rueful so he pressed his face against the towel he was using as a pillow. A moment later Clint asked if he was ready and he made a noise to the affirmative, and they were off.

Logically Bucky knew Clint's hands weren't all that different from the hands of the masseurs the team employed, but dear God his body and his emotions felt entirely different. Clint's hands felt like magic, which sounded stupid but he had no other words for it, as they glided up and down his back. Pressing against knots here and there, smoothing things out, making Bucky feel like a million dollars. He did his best to convey that too – not at all hiding any of the noises being drawn out of him.

“Okay?” Clint asked at one point after a particularly deep groan. 

“Mmm, s'all good,” Bucky very nearly slurred, hoping Clint understood him. “Bow calluses?” He muttered a moment later, when Clint's hand splayed against his rib cage.

“Yeah,” Clint replied and – was Bucky hoping too hard or was his voice sounding affected as well?

If he wasn't becoming so turned on he'd probably be relaxing to the point of dozing off, Bucky thought. Clint hadn't been lying – he was damned good at giving a back rub. And then something pinged the wrong way and he made a startled noise.

“That hurt?” Clint asked, leaning in, hands stilled on his lower back.

“Not entirely?” Bucky replied. “It's a problem spot, I might've tweaked it a little this morning. Probably have to do a bunch more ball squats or something.” 

“How's this?” Clint asked, pressing down on a spot on Bucky's lower back, just barely above the edge of his pants. 

“Ooh...good pain,” Bucky breathed. The regular masseurs never did that trick.

“It's fascinating what you can learn from a contortionist,” Clint murmured as if he had read Bucky's mind, fingers gliding under the waistband of his sweats to stroke at the rise of his ass. Bucky groaned in reply, losing all sense of time as Clint continued his ministrations.

“Okay,” Clint fairly breathed. “I'm done,” he pulled away from the table and Bucky felt the loss of his body heat immediately. “'m gonna go wash my hands. Slippery.”

“Can you help me turn over first? Jelly limbs,” Bucky asked.

“I mean, I guess – okay...” and Clint's hands were back, helping Bucky raise his upper body up so he could flip sideways and then sit. “Okay, Imma go,” Clint was standing awkwardly, body tilted away from Bucky, eyes downcast towards the floor. Bucky could see color high on his cheeks and his heart hammered its way into his throat. Clint had been affected by the massage as well.

“Clint – look at me, please?” Bucky's voice was deeper than normal and maybe it was the husky note to it that made Clint actually comply with the request. Clint's eyes darted from his face, down to the erection plainly evident through his sweats, and Bucky could've sword he saw his pupils dilate.

Clint made a startled noise and his body relaxed and turned towards Bucky, revealing his own partial erection. “I uh... m'sorry. I didn-”

“Clint,” Bucky reached out with his good hand to grab one of Clint's, his words stalling at the contact. “I want this. I want you.”

“You don't have to pretend.”

“M'not pretending. Believe me. I didn't want to be that cliché of the guy that fucks his PA...but I want you, so fucking badly, and I can't ignore it anymore.”

“Oh thank God,” And suddenly Clint was right there, hands sliding into Bucky's hair, head tilting just so so that when their mouths met and lips parted they fit together perfectly. 

Bucky had always enjoyed kissing, and he found that the more he kissed Clint the more he wanted to keep kissing him. And touching him, now that he could, though his stupid cast got in the way of doing as much exploring as he wanted – his right hand couldn't be everywhere, though he tried his damndest, caressing Clint's jaw one moment, running down the plane of his back and then back up to tangle in his hair the next. His legs were still in good working order and Bucky ended up hooked them together at the ankle to pull Clint in closer, rolling his hips against Clint's erection as they pressed together, savoring the gasp that earned him. 

“Maybe we should-” Clint began, attempting to catch his breath.

“Bedroom,” Bucky nodded. “Elevator?”

“Yes,” Clint said against his lips, kissing him soundly. “Arms around my upper back - brace yourself.” And before Bucky could ask what he meant by that Clint hands slid down and under his ass and he was being lifted up.

“Fuck – this is sexy as hell,” he said, biting against Clint's jaw and wrapping his legs more firmly around his waist. “And I thought I had fantasies about your fucking arms _before_.”

“You been thinking about my arms?” Clint asked, bracing him against the wall of the elevator so he could lean in and lick a bead of sweat from Bucky's collarbone – and also grind their erections together more firmly.

“Among other things,” he replied with a strangled laugh.

“You going commando?” Clint asked, getting in a solid grope of Bucky's ass before picking him up and hauling him out of the elevator and towards the bedroom.

“I think you're about to find out,” Bucky replied with a laugh – which was followed by another one as Clint casually tossed him onto the bed. He wanted to be smiling all sexy and mysterious like, but he was pretty sure his face was more on the goofy and all kinds of turned on end of the spectrum. Hopefully Clint didn't mind. 

And it seemed he didn't because soon after shedding his shirt Clint leaned in over Bucky, knee braced against the bed, to kiss him utterly senseless again. Then he was kissing his way down Bucky's chest, knee sliding off the bed, and easing his sweats down with a laugh. Before Bucky could summons up mock indignation – he had a nice looking dick, thanks very much, so Clint was probably laughing at the lack of underwear – Clint had closed both his hand and lips around Bucky's dick and he was letting out some truly embarrassing noises. Real-Clint was way better at giving head than Fantasy-Clint (and he hadn't been a slouch) so it wasn't too long before Bucky was tapping at his head and shoulders and begging him off. 

“That's good – so good – we need to, but I...” Bucky paused as Clint kissed him again, the taste of his own pre-come on Clint's tongue distracting him for a moment. “I wanna touch you too,” he finally managed, digging the fingers of his good hand hard into Clint's ass to feel Clint buck against him and swear.

“Scoot up the bed more,” Clint whispered, mouthing against Bucky's neck for a bit before finally letting up and sliding off the bed. Bucky eased himself up until he reached the pillows, watching hungrily as Clint slid his pants and boxers off and stepped around to climb onto the bed next to him. As soon as he reached out however, Clint clucked in disapproval. 

“This hand stays up here, okay?” Clint said, raising Bucky's cast above his head to press it against one of the pillows. Bucky couldn't help himself and flicked his tongue out to catch one of Clint's nipples as he leaned over him, earning him a raised eyebrow when they were face to face again.

“Oops?” He grinned, unrepentant. “The cast is coming off in like a week – do we have to be so careful? It's fine...”

“Yeah, all the more reason to not accidentally get jizz on it if you ask me,” Clint replied, kissing away the pout that formed on Bucky's lips. “Besides...” his mouth was so close their lips brushed together. “You really want that cast getting in the way of this?” And somehow Clint had snuck his hand down to grasp both of their cocks and began working them, slowly sliding up, circling the tips, then back down.

Bucky was pretty sure he made some sort of noise to the affirmative (or was it to the negative? He had no idea, all he knew was he wanted more of Clint and what he was doing with his hands – man did he love Clint's hands). Eventually he was coherent enough to reach his good hand down and lace his fingers together with Clint's to help him bring the both of them to a very satisfying conclusion to the evening.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand things finally happened! I do hope this isn't too disappointing - I mean, on the one hand - I'm not the best at writing sex and on the other hand - it is a Hallmark fic, not a Harlequin fic, so it was never going to be super explicit. 
> 
> And, for your amusement, please imagine Bucky sharing video of Clint shooting with a bow and making comments about 'my PA is bodyguard material' to which smart fans would reply 'and boyfriend material'


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

The following morning Bucky woke slowly, stretching luxuriously enough to make any cat proud, and flopped onto his side to look over at his companion...and swiftly frowned. 

Clint's side of the bed was conspicuously empty. 

Bucky sat up and ruffled his hair, glancing around to find that the clothes they'd shed the night before had been picked up and Clint had put his hearing aids in and left the room. He briefly debated if this might be a breakfast in bed situation – it was romantic and sweet but were they really at that stage? He didn't think so, not yet (though he realized with a bit of a start that he really wished they were) and so he pulled himself out of bed and shuffled around, wondering if maybe he could convince Clint to come back to bed. A flash of purple caught his attention and he laughed to himself when he realized Clint had missed his own boxers in his morning cleanup. 

With a smirk, Bucky pulled them on and sauntered down the stairs to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to watch Clint grind some beans and fill the coffee maker, then moved very deliberately across the kitchen, making sure Clint caught his reflection before nuzzling a kiss below his ear.

“Don't suppose I can get that coffee and barista to go, can I?” He murmured, stepping in front of Clint so he could see his lips and smoothing a hand up and down on his shoulder and upper arm. Clint smiled and leaned into the kiss that Bucky pressed to his lips with a happy sigh. 

“Are you going to make a terrible joke about being a good tipper?” Clint raised an eyebrow at him.

“I can if you want me to.” Bucky's smirk was firmly back into playful.

“I can only ima- Are you wearing my boxers?” Clint pulled back from the embrace to glance down. “And you are. Why are you wearing my dirty boxers?”

“These are yours? And they're dirty?” Bucky took a step back, his expression an exaggerated version of shocked. “That's awkward and embarrassing.” And with that, he casually reached down and let the boxers fall to the ground. 

“Well now you're risking being unsanitary,” Clint replied, lips quirking into a smile.

“I'm wondering at what point should I find your ambivalence to my dick insulting.” 

“I would think you'd be happy I don't want you for just your dick,” Clint replied while blatantly looking at said dick and licking his lips. 

Bucky pretended to give it some thought and then shrugged, smiling again as Clint closed the distance between then and swept him into a rough kiss. He felt nervous tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying release as an altogether more welcome and delicious tension began to build between the two of them. Last night hadn't been a one-off. Clint wasn't just an itch that needed to be scratched. 

It took a great deal of effort on his part to pull out of the latest kiss and reached down with his good hand to grasp Clint's wrist where he'd lazily began stroking Bucky's half-hard dick.

“Now who's being unsanitary in the kitchen?” he said, stooping to grab the boxers from the floor and promptly turning back towards the stairs.

“Really!?” Clint called out, adjusting himself very obviously when Bucky paused on the steps. 

“You coming?” Bucky said in reply, laughing out loud when he heard Clint's gruff:

“Not yet, but we both sure as hell will be soon enough,” in reply as he joined him on the stairs.

 

~~

 

“M'so glad that wasn't pity sex,” Clint said, fingers running slowly up and down Bucky's chest. It took a moment for the words to sink in through his post-orgasm lassitude, but when they did Bucky felt his heart lurch and he turned to look at Clint, expression stricken. 

“What?”

“Pity sex. I'm glad that wasn't what that was last night? I mean, I would've been okay with that-”

“Clint,” Bucky was surprised at the wounded noise he managed even as he cursed silently when the cast on his left hand made it difficult to touch Clint the way he wanted. He settled for flopping his arm down and resting the cast against the top of his head and brushing his right hand over Clint's cheek before gently passing two knuckles back and forth along his jaw. “Why?”

Clint smiled patiently, lifted his head and scooted a little closer to rest it against Bucky's elbow so he could tickle the stubby fingers of his casted hand against Clint's neck. 

“I know we've talked about my crappy childhood and I imagine you've probably guessed already, but, I've had some pretty shitty relationships too. And uh, long story short my brain doesn't always think good things. So the fact that someone like you, so gorgeous and gifted and wonderful, wanted someone like me? I would have been happy with whatever I could get, even if just one night. Even if you just had slept with me because you realized I'd been into you from day one.”

“Oh God, Clint please-” And well what the hell did you say to something like that? Bucky didn't want Clint to think that he would take advantage of him like that. That _anyone_ should take advantage of him like that. “Please tell me you-” Clint pressed their lips together to stop him.

“It's okay Bucky. It's okay. I can see your mind going a mile a minute and I know it's probably winding itself up about this. I know. Okay? I know you didn't – wouldn't do that.”

“No one should do that to you.”

“I...know that too and most of the time now I think I believe it.” Clint smiled, though it was a little wobbly. 

“And as for someone like me being interested into someone like you...” Bucky paused until he had Clint's full attention. “Who wouldn't be interested in someone as amazing as you? You're ridiculously smart, sexy as fuck, more observant than anyone I've ever met...and as for gifted...” He pressed a kiss to Clint's lips then allowed a smile to curl the edges of his. “Your mad skills with a bow are out of this world.” 

“Yeah?” Clint's smile was so soft and so pleased.

“Yeah.” It wasn't enough. Bucky knew it wasn't enough, but it was a start.

 

~~|~~

 

The following morning found Bucky on his knees, getting lost in the feel of Clint hands in his hair and the taste of him on his tongue, after he had greeted him by whispering dirtily into his ear about the doctor telling him he needed more protein. Clint reciprocated shortly after coming, shoving Bucky prone on the floor and fumbling his pants open to swallow him down. It felt too good to be embarrassed by how quickly he came and they both slumped on the floor to catch their breaths.

“I think it's less unsanitary if we both swallowed,” Bucky eventually said and he and Clint made eye contact for a brief moment before they flopped against each other, laughing so hard Bucky had tears in his eyes.

They were still chuckling when Clint's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out almost carelessly and then blanched. “Oh shit – Natasha!” And then the two of them where scrambling back to their feet and tucking themselves away and checking for splashes or stains when the click of heels on the floor reached the kitchen. 

Natasha took one look at them and the corner of her mouth tipped up. “Well – unresolved sexual tension's been resolved finally hm?”

“Maybe?” Bucky said. 

At the same time Clint replied with: “I have no idea what you're talking about?”

More laughter as Natasha merely rolled her eyes and continued on into the breakfast room with the food she'd brought over. The meal was mostly a working one – going over the details on sponsorship contracts with Bucky - but she smiled at the two of them in a pleased, even proud, manner and only threw a few grapes when they got a little too silly together.

 

~~|~~

 

The next several days passed in a blur and then, all of a sudden, Bucky was at the doctors getting his cast removed. He knew the doctor had given him more instructions on things to do (and not do), sheets for his physical therapists and the like, but the only thing running through his head was excitement at how soon he'd be able to play again. 

He and Clint went out for lunch where Bucky was able to very cheerfully flip off with _both_ fingers a persistent paparazzi that had shoved a fan to the side to get a shot of him without the cast. Clint meanwhile had sprung up to help the girl and, of course, ended up inviting her to join them before Bucky could even voice the thought and he stared at him a little stupidly because how could he be so perfect?

Other things happened, a brief meeting with the team trainers, texts with the idiots he called his friends and teammates, and a short conversation with Steve to shoot the shit and set up a group celebration for Bucky getting his hand back, and then Bucky and Clint were eating a quiet dinner. Clint refused his help with cleanup and gave him a withering look when Bucky suggested he could do the laundry while Clint was cleaning up, which left Bucky to his own devices for a while. Long enough, it turned out, to hatch a plan for a little celebration/relaxation time with Clint.

Setting things up was easy with two hands and it wasn't long before he was sending a text asking Clint to join him upstairs and help him with something. Shortly thereafter he heard Clint calling his name from the bedroom and he replied that he was in the bathroom.

“So if you have your phone, I'm guessing you didn't slip...” Clint said, words just dying off when he stepped into the bathroom to find Bucky lounging in the giant tub.

“No, I didn't slip,” Bucky replied. “It's just – I have all this celebratory champagne here,” he gestured at the bucket of ice in which the bottle sat, two flutes next to it. “And, well, I didn't want to drink it all alone.”

“I never knew someone could be both bad and good at romantic gestures at the same time until I met you,” Clint replied, his smile warming. 

“All a part of my charm?”

“Something like that,” Clint replied. 

Bucky took a careful sip of champagne, enjoying the view over the rim of the glass as Clint shed his clothing. He'd filled out a little during the month and a half he'd been with Bucky, remaining lean but losing the hint of gauntness that had been around him when he'd first arrived.

Clint huffed out a small nervous laugh as he approached the tub. “Still a little surreal.”

“What is?”

“Seeing you looking at me like that.” 

“And how am I looking at you?” Bucky may have lowered his voice to a purr.

“Just...” Clint waved a hand vaguely and glanced down at the floor, self-consciousness taking over for a second. 

“Like you're one of the most gorgeous things I've seen?” Bucky asked, moving towards the front of the tub again. “Because you really are.” Clint raised his eyes to meet Bucky's when his hand – his left hand – reached out to trail across Clint's chest. “Join me?”

And after sharing a brief kiss and removing his hearing aids, Clint did join him, settling against his chest with only a minimum of grumbling. Communicating would be a little trickier no matter what way they sat. Not that Bucky had been thinking they would talk to much anyway – he was happy to settle in and sip at champagne and press occasional kisses against Clint's head and neck and lips when he turned his head. Enjoyed being able to finally run both hands against his skin.

Eventually the touches became less soft and playful and began to take on more purpose. Clint being just as guilty as his hips shifted to press his ass more firmly against Bucky, his kisses against Bucky's neck bringing teeth into play.

“I take it back.” Clint murmured, voice almost too quiet and neck straining so he could nibble on Bucky's earlobe. “A+ seduction.” Bucky's chuckle at that turned into a groan as Clint shifted so Bucky's erection slid just so between his cheeks. His hand, guided by the one Clint didn't have currently sliding into his hair, the angle putting his gorgeous arm muscles so close Bucky had to lick them, closing around Clint's erection to give him a few friendly strokes. They did that for a little while until Clint shifted around so they were face to face, his knees on either side of Bucky's waist, their hands joining together around their erections, kisses deep and wet and wonderful. 

“You should fuck me,” Bucky said when they broke apart. He knew Clint hadn't really heard him, was probably too distracted to have felt the vibration of his voice, but as soon as the words came out a spike of want hit him at how true they were. He disentangled himself from Clint's hand so he could raise both of his to frame his face. He had to press a kiss to the confused little frown line on Clint's forehead because it was entirely too cute, before he was able to talk. 

“I want to come with you inside me,” he said, words carefully enunciated in the hopes that Clint could read them. 

“What?” Clint's eyes had widened a bit, and he blinked a few times, head shaking. Had he not been able to figure out what Bucky said or could he not believe it?

Bucky reached for a towel to dry his hand off before grabbing one of Clint's aids and carefully helping him slip it on. “I want you inside me, Clint. Please fuck me, please.” 

And it must have been shock because Clint just stared at Bucky, eyes huge, for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds before he nodded. “Okay. Okay...” They got out of the bath and dried each other off, Clint slipping his second aid back in as Bucky tugged him along to the bedroom.

It had been fucking ages since he'd been with a man, or even a girlfriend with a strap on, so Bucky directed and babbled and generally ran his mouth until Clint ended up manhandling him and thrusting himself in to the hilt in one go after thorough prep.

“You would be a pushy bottom wouldn't you?” Clint panted as he paused a moment so they both could adjust. Bucky swore the echo of the moan he'd let out was still hanging in the air.

“You fucking love it,” he replied with a chuckle that had the both of them moaning. 

Their coupling was messy and frenetic and noisy - and absolutely fan-fucking-tastic, even if it was over a little more quickly than perhaps Bucky would've liked. They had time to do more, to get better, he thought as they moaned through their orgasms and remained tangled together panting harshly afterwards. 

Bucky pulled Clint in close after they'd cleaned themselves up, pressing contented kisses to his head. “Stay?” He murmured against Clint's hair. He had a habit of leaving half the time they fell asleep together and Bucky's heart beat with a little more force when Clint nodded and kissed him softly before taking out his ears and settling in.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand apologies for this taking two weeks rather than the usual one. It's been...well, it's _been_ lately, you know? My extreme social anxiety and issues (with several social situations scheduled to boot) running headlong into my grieving for my father (first Father's Day without him) and general depression and also - hey, how about not really many breaks from work either? thrown in for good measure. But I did some talking, with therapist and a friend that might be a friend (and not just a work friend) and interacted with some cats and cried a fuck-ton and caught some Pokemon and am feeling better. And now, also, sorry for this novel of "things you didn't want to know."
> 
>  
> 
> TL;DR - Life happened - but now there is fic.
> 
> I believe there is only one chapter left to this, which will hopefully go up next week, though no promises again as I have More Things to Do between now and then that aren't writing. Ugh.


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

It was strange, suddenly being back with the team. Comfortable and familiar of course, and yet Bucky felt like something was missing. That something being, of course, time spent with Clint. Clint still drove him to the rink more often than not, but Bucky was putting in more time than he had before, pushing very near the point of too much actually, to get back into game shape as soon as possible. 

He told himself he would ease back again when he finally made it back into the lineup, that he'd just do enough work to stay in game shape – maintenance work wasn't as hardcore as overhauling – and that he'd gain back a little free time then to devote to being with Clint. And Clint didn't complain one bit, remaining as cheerful and wonderful as he'd always been, soaking up any bit of affection Bucky gave him and returning it in spades. 

Natalia mentioned during a lunch at the rink that Clint's last boyfriend, a greasy guy named Loki, had been physically and emotionally abusive; and it had taken a lot of work on her part, and the part of other mutual friends ,to both get him out of that relationship and help him recover to the point he was at. Bucky recognized the admission for the shovel talk that it was. Though she loved them both and trusted Bucky, he had to guess that Natalia recognized that while he'd never be abusive, he could be distant and get distracted and potentially neglect Clint even if he didn't mean to. And that, much like a plant, Clint thrived with the care and attention – and would thusly, not do so well if neglected.

Bucky wasn't about to let that happen.

 

~~|~~

 

“Big night tonight,” Clint said, stroking Bucky's cheek as they curled together for his pre-game nap on the day of his first game back from injury. “Nervous?”

“A little,” Bucky replied. He knew he shouldn't allow himself to get used to having Clint with for these naps because he wouldn't have him along on the road, but he couldn't help it. “I'm sure it will be fine and all...I just want to make sure I do right by the fans and the boys, you know?” Clint nodded. “And you, of course,” he added with a small smile.

“I'm just proud of you for making it back,” Clint replied, pressing a kiss to Bucky's forehead. “Just play your game and stay safe.”

Bucky nodded as he closed his eyes. He could do that.

 

~~

 

As it turned out, he did better than that – netting an assist on the game tying goal from Jonesy. The locker room was jubilant and a little crazy afterwards, the team riding the high of the win. They were in a fierce battle for a playoff spot. Odds were they'd likely be able to secure one, but nobody wanted to take that as a given. Complacency never served anyone well.

Steve and the boys all wanted to go out for just a drink or two – they had a few days off in a row and celebrating Bucky's return and a win the night before a full day off was as good a reason as any to go out – and Bucky was happy to go along. He invited Clint and was a little disappointed when he declined. Good moods were meant to be shared and he loved seeing Clint in a good mood. 

They only stayed out for a few drinks, bemoaning the fact that they were all 'old and washed up' when it came to going out despite only being in their mid-twenties, but Clint was nowhere to be found when Bucky returned. Well – he wasn't awake nor in Bucky's bed anyway, which to his slightly tipsy reasoning equaled nowhere to be found; and he wandered down a floor to find Clint sleeping in his own bed. With a frown and then a shrug, Bucky shed everything but his boxers and crawled into bed, curling himself around Clint with a contented sigh.

 

~~|~~

 

“How...how do you feel about us being out as a couple?” Clint asked him the following day. It had taken some cajoling on Bucky's part, but he'd managed to convince him that the absolute best usage of their time would be to sit around and do nothing all day. They were currently stretched out on the living room couch watching... Well, Bucky wasn't entirely sure, he'd been occupied with nuzzling against Clint's stomach and dozing off every so often while Clint combed his fingers through Bucky's hair. Some sort of cooking competition show? He made a noise and pushed his face against Clint again before the question actually registered and his eyes opened wider and he became more alert.

“I don't like the idea of you having to put up with extra shit,” he began, pushing up a bit so Clint could see his lips as he spoke (his aids were in but it was courtesy and second nature by this point). “But you know I prefer being open and I really would love to be able to take you around and show you off and shit.”

“Show me off and shit?” Clint sounded and looked amused.

“Hell yeah. Bagged myself a fucking grade-a hottie, why shouldn't I want to brag about that?” He tugged Clint's t-shirt up and pressed something that was half-kiss-half-raspberry against his stomach, which made Clint laugh and squirm. Bucky's stomach was squirming as well, but that was just the butterflies. He'd grown rather fond of these Clint-related butterflies, fluttering around in his belly whenever Clint did...anything really.

“Dorky weirdo,” Clint said with affection, smoothing Bucky's hair from his face and welcoming a soft kiss when he pushed himself up. 

“Why'd you ask?”

“No real reason.”

Bucky knew by now that Clint rarely did anything without a reason. He also knew that he probably shouldn't push him to share said reason until he was ready. A part of him was worried that maybe Clint didn't want to open about them yet – he seemed to like his privacy. Maybe he just needed time to adjust to things?

“Maybe in a few weeks then? Put it out just before the post season so that yeah, it's out there, but people will be too focused on said post season to raise a stupid fuss about it?” He couldn't quite tell from Clint's expression if he liked or disliked the idea and decided to just take him at his word when he said okay – especially when that was followed up by an impromptu romp on the couch that left him distracted and happy.

 

~~|~~

 

Road trips used to be fun for the most part – time to bond with the guys and see new places and things. Even playing tourist a little if the schedule was right. Now though? Not so much. Bucky just missed seeing Clint. Wished he was along for the journey so he could share everything he loved about each city with him. Which – maybe it was just because they were still so new? The honeymoon period, Dum Dum had called it when he'd gotten a look at the long face Bucky was wearing on the plane ride out and went to tease him about it. 

There was at least one good thing about the road trip – it would help him with the surprise he was working on for Clint – learning ASL. He'd kept the books and videos at the practice arena so far to keep the surprise, but he hadn't had as much time as he'd wanted to work on things. Not when Clint wasn't around anyway. 

Maybe he was silly for wanting it to be a surprise, but he was hoping it would be another Romantic Gesture.

Now, on the plane between cities again, he had his laptop out, video pulled up, a book wedged in against his thigh and the arm rest. He'd sequestered himself near the back of the plane in the hopes that he'd get a little privacy (and had briefly thought he'd succeeded when two different card games broke out).

That didn't happen.

“You need to raise your right hand a little more for that one,” Morita said from behind him.

“Be a little more emphatic with the gesture too,” Steve said, tucked in at his side. “Expression and body language is even more important than English.”

Bucky paused the video and raised his eyes to the roof of the plane as some rapid fire French came from Dernier – whose head (along with Gabe's) was poking over the top of the seats ahead of him like a stupid wack-a-mole game.

“Now now – let him learn the American before the French Sign, Dernsy. You don't see me campaigning for British Sign quite yet do you?” Monty replied, rolling his eyes when Dernier responded.

“You're right, it's probably mostly slang differences, but you never know,” Gabe cut in with a laugh.

“Anything you'd like to add?” Bucky asked, rolling his head against the headrest in the general direction of the seats opposite him where Dum Dum had another book open.

“Nah – not right now. But man am I going to enjoy trying some of these out on Pens players,” he said with a grin, because of course he'd somehow found a book teaching profanity. 

“I'm sure the completely unbiased refs will love that,” Peggy said as she settled herself into the row of seats behind Dum Dum. “Now, come on Barnes – you've got more to learn before this plane ride is over.”

 

~~|~~

 

Clint was happy enough when Bucky returned home a few days later, but he seemed distracted - even a little distant and when Bucky asked if he wanted to talk about it or if there was anything he could do to help he was gently dissuaded. 

Bucky tried not to worry, but it began to creep up on him throughout the rest of that day and the following one. Especially when Clint said he had family stuff to attend to and then left without another word just after breakfast. 

Bucky drove himself to the morning skate and he had brief contact with Clint via text afterwards, but then nothing else the rest of the day. Clint didn't return home for the pre-game nap, nor had he responded to any of the numerous texts Bucky sent up until he had to leave for that night's game. 

With a win they could clinch a playoff spot, and thought it was one of the most difficult thing's Bucky'd ever had to do, somehow he had to manage to put aside the growing knot of worry in his stomach so he could play.

 

~~

 

Bucky had just survived another Dum Dum hug - all the more enthusiastic due to the win, barely getting his skates back on the ice, when Steve barreled into his side. He automatically reached to hug him again when Steve shoved him. 

“Check out the corner!” Bucky made a face and Steve bodily turned him to face the glass, the widest smile ever on his face. “Look!”

There, along the glass and pressed in between the crowd of bodies, was Clint.

Bucky took off, stick dropped and gloves flung, his heart feeling like it was stuck in his throat and his skates sending up an impressive spray of snow when he came to a stop.

“Clint!” God, it was so loud and the glass was between them, but he was pretty sure that through the cacophony he made out Clint saying Bucky in reply, their hands ending up pressed together against the glass. Someone shifted, allowing Clint to step closer to one of the seams in the glass.

“I'm sorry!” they both yelled and then laughed. Bucky help up a finger, then pointed to himself, indicating he'd go first. 

“I'm sorry,” he said again, signing as well as speaking and damn, but the look on Clint's face was worth it. “I don't know what I did but please tell me and I'll fix it. I'll fix anything for you.” He didn't know that much sign yet, so those words were mostly just spoken and hopefully Clint could read what he couldn't manage to hear. The woman next to him seemed to make out the words just fine, her eyes going big as saucers.

Clint shook his head. “Not you. All me.” He held up his phone, which was cracked and refused to respond when Clint went to turn it on. “My brother is a jerk.” Bucky was pretty sure that was what he said anyway, though jerk might not have been what he really wanted to say if the abortive gesture was anything to go by. “He wanted money...”

Bucky's eyes went wide and he looked over Clint as best he could through the glass. “Did he hurt you?” He tried to ask, though with all the noise (there were as many people shouting and screaming as there were attempting to listen intently to the conversation) he had to settle for pointing at Clint and signing “o” and “k.” Clint nodded and Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 

“I thought it was just the usual Barney BS. He saw the picture of me with you and Tasha in the newspaper and I figured he just wanted a handout or something.” They were pressed tight against the glass at this point so that Bucky could make out Clint's words.

“Turns out he was being a bigger ass than normal – he took pictures of us in the parking lot the other day. Wanted to blackmail me. When I didn't have the money I was going to give him my phone. He busted it and left me in freaking Jersey after taking all my cash.”

“It's okay,” Bucky replied, relief palpable, washing through his body in a strong wave that left his knees a little unsteady. Clint wasn't upset with him. He didn't want to leave and most importantly he was okay. “I'm just glad you're okay.” Thank God he was okay. He made a mental note to talk to Natalia though, about Clint's brother. 

“But the pictures...” Clint looked so worried.

“I don't care.” He really fucking didn't. Let Clint's shitty brother publish them – he had nothing to hide. Unless Clint didn't want the world to know about them...? Bucky watched as Clint's expression slowly went from worried to neutral and then, ever so cautiously, a little hopeful.

Stan, who'd been an usher at the arena since possibly the beginning of time, made his way through the crowd to Clint, gesturing towards the tunnel at the end of the ice and said something to him. Clint nodded and then the both of them gestured for Bucky to head that way as well. The crowd made way for Clint, parting with very little reluctance, and Bucky followed along, watching as Clint eventually was helped to climb over the railing. 

Finally, they were face to face again.

“The other night when I asked you to stay – I didn't just mean for the night,” Bucky said, his Clint related butterflies taking flight in his stomach. “I should have said stay forever. Please?” He managed to sign the 'stay forever' and 'please' as he spoke – as well as his follow up: “I love you, Clint Barton.” 

A few girls near enough to the railing to hear them squealed in delight.

Time stood still for a moment as Bucky waited to see how Clint would respond, and then it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds and a choir began to sing as Clint's face broke into the most beautiful smile Bucky'd ever seen.

“I love you too.”

He wasn't quite sure if Clint launched himself at Bucky or if Bucky just picked him up or if it was some sort of combination, but next thing he realized – he was kissing Clint and somehow drifting backwards on the ice, Clint's legs wrapped around him. 

Somehow the crowd got even louder with their cheering, and it wasn't a choir but the sound system in the arena did begin playing "Open Arms" by Journey as they drifted to a stop, Clint carefully untangling and letting his feet hit the ice. "Never going to leave your side again," he said, nuzzling a kiss to Bucky's neck.

“Not exactly what you signed on for huh?” Bucky asked, stroking Clint's cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Not really, no. But I don't mind,” Clint replied, smile brighter than the sun. “For once – it's even better.”

Their lips met in another kiss just as the team swarmed around them, and Bucky had to admit to himself that it was entirely possible that breaking his hand was the best thing to ever happen to him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone that's kudos and commented and waited patiently as this got (only slightly) off schedule towards the end. Thanks especially for the supportive comments when the bs of my real life interfered enough for me to comment on it. You're all the best and I wish I could really impress how much things mean to me. And interact more like a normal person. ;-)
> 
> When this ridiculous idea came to me I had no idea it would get this long (really, really no idea - I can't even with these dorks) and hopefully it all worked well (well enough for something as cheesy as a Hallmark film anyway). 
> 
> Through the magic of end notes I am sure this will make two links to my tumblr depending on how you view this fic, but, oh well. Follow me at [redsector-a](http://redsector-a.tumblr.com/) where I will drop as many hints as I can about the fics I hope to have for Marvel Bang, and as I work on an epic length fic I call Torch Song and, well, anything else my brain tosses my way. I mean, mostly it's gonna be reblogged pics and stuff, but, there is the occasional actual content.
> 
> Thanks again. :)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [redsector-a](http://redsector-a.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr where I reblog stuff and complain about stuff and talk about things (sometimes - mostly it's the reblogging). I haven't been followed by an actual person in ages - will any of you be the first in a while?


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